Post by The Master Tactician on Jul 18, 2013 13:25:04 GMT -5
The Master Tactician sat upon one side of the long mahogany table, his hands folded before him, his jaw set with grim resolve despite his obvious decrepitude. Without the usual mantle and breastplate of his military ensemble, he looked strangely shrunken, his chest concave, his shoulders hunched, as though he were barely more than a skeleton beneath the white cotton button-down and loose black slacks he wore. More bizarre yet was the absence of his iconic bird. Even seated, his tremor was evident: violent, sickly shivers against some fever-induced chill.
His single visible eye drooped closed as he strove to steel himself in the face of this impending encounter, its twin concealed beneath a black silk patch, layers of gauze and crusted blood. The thrum of panic pounded in his chest, intensified by the pain of each heartbeat beneath the Eiwhaz mark. He could only desperately hope that the meeting would be brief enough that he might stay awake; that his broken form, consumed by illness, would have the strength to remain upright, to stave off nausea long enough that he might receive the Shadow Islander's missive without vomiting or otherwise losing control of his bodily functions--which, to his terror, felt just barely manageable.
Time was of the essence, Darius had been cautioned. And so the Grand General would not wait long for the presence of his second and their sinister guest...
Post by The Hand of Noxus on Jul 19, 2013 19:38:53 GMT -5
He wasted no time in alerting the Raedsel to bring their guest in. He would not, could not leave Swain's side for fear of the worst. He took a seat to the right of The Grand General, his stoic expression masked his worry.
"He'll be here soon. The raedsel will escort him here within the moment." He did not need to repeat to Swain the facts they both knew. Time was of the essence,
Escorted into the room was what at first glance seemed to be a human, wrapped in black summoner robes trimmed instead by a light grey rather than the gold or silver usually seen. His face completely obscured save for his lower jaw, his black lips cracked as though dehydrated. What could be seen of his skin was as pale as snow, an aura of sickening cold would flow from Azazel, biting through flesh and freezing them to the core followed by a sense of despair and hopelessnes that coiled around ones heart and crushed it like a snake.
Azazel's head moved slightly, eyes glancing through the thin material of the hood toward Darius, a smug smirk forming upon the dead lips. He remained silent as he looked back toward Swain, in an instant the smirk faded.
He could feel it, Swain seemed to be knocking upon deaths door already. How he managed to sit there and still be breathing was an achievement in itself. The shaking, the sweat. This was the mighty leader of Noxus? This... Frail old shadow of a man? He looked like nothing to Azazel. He kept his thoughts to himself however. Simply waiting for the 'Grand' General to speak.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jul 21, 2013 15:42:54 GMT -5
In the party marched: dark summoner and honor-bound praetorians. Six Raedsel had been assigned to this grim visitor; four entered and two took up their posts outside the door, identical sentinels in green and gold, the red eyes of their helm agleam. If they were perturbed by the Shadow Islander's aura, they steeled themselves against the crushing weight of despair that followed in his wake. There were more important things than self at stake.
By now, words of the Demacian invasion had reached the ears of every citizen--and while their rival state's misfortunes brought smirks of amusement to their lips, stormclouds of sinister foreboding hung about their heads when the subject of the Shadow Isles was breached: what if these denizens of Death should turn their eyes to Noxus? And now, here stood a representative of that dreadful place, a messenger, a sign. Breath bated, they waited, poised at attention by the door. The sight of their nation's leader, to whom they had each sworn undying fealty, looking close to death himself caused jaws to set and lips to press together. Whatever storm was coming... Noxus must weather.
A single crimson eye met Azazel's deathly visage. At the sight of him, pain seared through the rune on the Grand General's chest, as though it were enraged, ignited, by the presence of this servant of the damned. Swain held his breath, brows knit, as the agony passed through him. After a few moments in deafening silence, he inhaled and croaked, "...You... bear a message for me... wraith." He barely moved, his head leant back against the velvet cushion, his chest laboriously rising and falling with each breath. The Master Tactician, reduced to this, was barely strong enough to speak.
"Deliver it.'[/size][/font]
The sudden surge of power through the room caused torches to flicker. The voice, Swain's and not-quite-Swain's, seemed to issue from the very walls themselves. It was enough chill the flesh, to make the hairs of all those present stand on end.
Azazel remained silent for a few moments, his eyes stared through the hood observing the Grand General's condition. He almost sneered with disgust at the sight, a man like this should not be leading a nation such as Noxus. Azazel was half tempted to walk out, ignore the Ruined King's order and declare this a waste of time... Until the surge of power that accompanied the voice could be felt throughout the room. This brought a smile of amusement to his lips, one that he did not hide from Swain nor Darius, it seemed Azazel's game may just yet have a new player.
Azazel bowed his head as he spoke, "You surprise me, Grand General." Azazel raised his head and pulled back the hood to reveal a pair of piercing cyan eyes that looked to stare right through Swain. A few long perfectly straight black strands of hair hung loosely about the Dark Summoner's pale face, "I think it is time I revealed a surprise of my own. Allow me a few moments, The Ruined King himself wishes to speak with you."
Without waiting for a reply, the Dark Summoner rolled his head back, the whites of his eyes showing as he began to reach out with his consciousness for his king. Black smoke poured from the summoner's robes in waves, covering his form as the dark magic weaved itself through his body to allow The Ruined King to take control. Azazel would begin chanting in a soft whisper, his voice sounding strained as though he were holding back agonizing pain, those present in the room would feel the crushing sense of despair evaporate as the chanting came to an end. The black smoke that had poured from the robes was instantly sucked back in toward the summoner, fading to reveal what what looked to be a black shadowy silhouette of an armored man, 6'5" in height, any details of the heavy armor he looked to be wearing were obscured by the darkness that had enveloped the being.
A single pair of cyan eyes opened and appeared to be blazing like torches, staring at the Grand General...
Post by The Ruined King on Jul 21, 2013 16:28:41 GMT -5
"I sense death..." The powerful voice rolled like thunder through the room. The shadows melting away from the form to reveal the hulking armored form of the Ruined King himself. Obsidian armor encased his body, his full helm looked to be modeled after the interpretation of a demon, the cyan spirit fire that burned where the eyes should be giving the impression it truly was a monster.
Swain would be able to sense the rune etched upon the Ruined King's neck, hidden under the armor was the same as the one that would now be causing near blinding agony upon his own chest. The Ruined King raised a hand to his own neck, placing it over where his own rune was now burning as though it had been freshly branded into his flesh.
"Grand General, you, are not what I was expecting." The Ruined King looked down upon the frail man, every inch of the Ruined King's form conveyed power. To those who were present, it looked as though merely being in the presence of the king could be enough to crush Swain to dust in his current state.
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 The Hand of Noxus on Jul 21, 2013 17:41:21 GMT -5
His outer self was not unlike the Raedsel, it was masked and still nothing betrayed him. He had dealt with other champions of the Isles and the Void on the Field of Justice and faced Demacia in its numbers on the battlefield, he knew how to keep his composure and what came with breaking it. Once they got a taste of his fear, they would try to use it to overwhelm him.
He remained silent and kept his mask but inside his head the thought of this discussion going to hell was above all the panic that had occurred within the past few minutes. The Ruined King was here, something he knew even less about than LeBlanc. Swain was even acting far more different than he usually did, as if something else was there. Where was LeBlanc; no doubt she had some involvement but if he had any clue it might ease him. What if she wasn't here at all? Too many questions and not enough time to get any answers.
He remained vigilant, silent. The Hand of Noxus waited, starring down the two quietly. What else could he do?
Post by The Master Tactician on Jul 21, 2013 18:12:12 GMT -5
The Eihwaz mark upon Swain's chest called out to its twin symbol, breaking open as it burned. What was this? The Ruined King himself would come to call? And he, too, was marked by Death, by the same rune? Fresh blood seeping out beneath the general's bandages reminded him how short his time here was. How many minutes had already passed? His fevered mind could hardly keep track of what he was seeing, let alone the ticking down of time. Desperately he hoped the blood would not leak through his wrappings to stain his shirt.
The Raedsel now posted about the room were tense, ready to leap immediately to action should this specter of the Isles' ruler make any move against theirs.
The Grand General's body was deathly still, kept conscious by the lowest possible frequency of LeBlanc's magicks. The demon took his voice and spoke again.
"What is it you wish of me, Ruined King."[/size][/font]
Post by The Ruined King on Jul 21, 2013 19:00:30 GMT -5
The King's gaze moved from Swain to Darius, the burning gaze would be enough to make most men cringe in fear. The Ruined King studied the Hand of Noxus, a strong human, following such a frail leader. Amusing. He sensed the tension behind him from the Guard, "Do not kid yourself guardsmen. You could not hope to touch me."
The Ruined King turned his attention back to Swain, his gaze burning through the frail form before him, "No doubt, you have heard of me. They call me The Ruined King. The King of the Dead. And I believe we have a mutual obstacle that needs to be removed." he paused, feeling the burning from the rune causing him immense pain, yet he looked to ignore it for the time being. He could feel the power of the Eihwaz coming from Swain. He too had defied death, just as the King had? Death had claimed his kingdom and loved ones as punishment, stripping away their very lives. What would the cost to the Grand General be?
His interest now ignited, the cyan eyes flaring briefly as he reached out to feel the souls of those within the room, the guardsmen... nothing special, stronger than the average human. But still, nothing special. He felt the strong willpower of the one they called the Hand of Noxus, loyal, physically and mentally strong... It held power. Then that of the Grand General's. Immediately the King let out a low growl, this soul... Something was wrong, it was human... yet not human. Corrupted and twisted... Immense amounts of sealed power. Was this what had caused Death itself to mark this man?
"What are you?" the King demanded of Swain, he took a single step toward the grand general. The power of the king flowed freely from his body, it would feel like a heavy weight pressing down upon those in the room.
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 The Master Tactician on Jul 28, 2013 16:58:55 GMT -5
"A man above men,"[/font][/size] haunting words floated up from the corpse-like figure in his chair, resonating through the room and through the cores of each man present. Between the weight of the Ruined King's aura and their master's ominous presence, it was a wonder the mortals poised at the door and on each wall held their composure. "As are you. I have heard of you, Ruined King...
"You speak of the Institute, of mutual enemies, of obstacles and goals. What is it you wish."
Post by The Ruined King on Jul 28, 2013 21:22:16 GMT -5
The Ruined King's hulking armored form stood tall before Swain, the voice that sounded was far more powerful than the pitiful man before him should be capable of. The King was cautious of the being before him, so close to death, yet capable of keeping it at an arms length. Just what power kept him alive? It had to be something more than sheer force of will. Swain's soul, no, It's soul... What kind of dark magic was this? The King raised an armored hand, a finger extending to point at Swain's chest where the rune burned, "You are no man."He stated, speaking to the powerful voice and not Swain, he then turned to talking to Swain once more, "I feel the mark upon you." The same hand would retract and place itself upon the right right of his own neck where his own marked seared. "There is one being capable making such mark. The Undying Lich, Karthus."
"What I wish..." The King paused, his hand fell to his side, his eyes burning as they looked upon the frail being, "Is for our obstacles to be swept aside, the lich, the institute and those who would stand against us as we achieve this." The whole room seemed to darken, the cyan torch like eyes burned brighter than before, "You will stand with the Isles, or be swept aside. What was sent to Demacia was no more than a fraction of the power I hold at my finger-tips. TWICE I have defied death. TWICE I have survived."
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 The Hand of Noxus on Jul 30, 2013 3:11:20 GMT -5
A lesser man would have ran for the door. Darius figured if it wasn't for their mask the Raedsel would be quaking in fear of this. Karthus was involved with Swain's condition perhaps? Then what of this other phenominon with Swain, it looked like something was puppeteering him. The Ruined King wanted Swain to help him sweep aside the Institute?
Darius kept himself as poised and still yet. Seconds felt too long. The sooner they concluded their talk, the sooner Swain could rest.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jul 31, 2013 0:50:29 GMT -5
"The Institute will fall,"[/size][/font] the Grand General affirmed in the same voice that issued from his transformation on the Fields of Justice--only now it was all the more more haunting and terrible for its resonating quality, rumbling with ancient power. "And Karthus also, if he moves to obstruct."[/size][/font]
At the King's grim ultimatum, the demon chuckled coldly. "You do not yet have the strength to make such threats, formidable as the Isles may be."[/font][/size] Diplomatically, though imperiously, It allowed the proud king to maintain his dignity, while making clear that such attempts at intimidation would not have the desired effect. Noxus could indeed act as an ally against these mutual threats--and would be a boon to the cause indeed, given how strong she had become since her secession.
Despite the power of Swain's voice, his form further betrayed him with each word: his sunken chest heaving as his skeletal hands gripped the arm of his chair. He looked as though at any moment he might vomit.
Post by The Ruined King on Aug 1, 2013 2:00:52 GMT -5
The Ruined King was motionless as he listened to the powerful voice resounding about the room. What did it know of the Ruined King's power? He simply stared at the frail form of Swain, he had to admire the strength of will the man before him had. It was clear he was on his last legs, and yet he batted the threat away, "Your form is breaking, Grand General." The Ruined King's gaze locked with Swain's. He could feel the scythe hanging above Swain's head like an executioner's guillotine, ready to reap what death believed was owed to it, "How long can you hold off death, simply by being here... I can feel you failing." his eyes moved to Darius, wishing to question why the hand of Noxus hadn't simply removed the clearly weakened general. Was the motto not, Forever Strong? Swain was but a broken man barking with a voice that was not his own. What would stop the Ruined King from simply ending him right here and now and removing a possible obstacle. The Sealed power within the soul made the king wary, to remove the physical body right here and now would be his best bet. But the cost would be for him lose him a possible temporary ally against the Institute...
"The institute will be swept aside, and the Lich will be sealed away. What becomes of Noxus?"
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 The Hand of Noxus on Aug 1, 2013 20:14:35 GMT -5
Darius brought both hands down upon the table, his grasp alone almost shook it. He rose slightly and locked eyes with The Ruined King. As dreaded and feared as he might have been his words were not welcome and a hellfire and fury a lit in the Hand of Noxus' eyes. The Ruined King was in HIS city-state. Determination, resolve, conquest were all things that he carried with him and it was clear now, if it hadn't been before that Darius was not like other men.
"Noxus will Rise."
The tone was angry, and beyond confident. He was challenging the Ruined King to tell him otherwise.
It was loud, and cut through the air of the room like the swing of an axe on an exposed neck. The silence that followed after filled the room like the 'THWACK' of steel on flesh and bone.
"You have our stance and you have had your impromptu meeting. Now it is over. See your way out, you know where gates are." He said it clearly and slowly with finality in his voice.
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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