"Very well..." She looked over at the other attending doctors and simply gave them a wry smile. The Noxian physicians never felt at ease around their former headmistress, not even the ones from the rival school.
"I'll leave Andre his beer. Of course, he should only consume in moderation. Good day and good day, generals."
Valeria exited behind Zorn, her aid waiting outside with her next appointment.
Post by Andre Bleakwood on Aug 11, 2013 23:02:12 GMT -5
"May you both be blessed with the Raven's cunning in my absence. If not, I'll kick both of your asses into next week." Andre said, ignoring the mild smell of piss arising from the the head doctor's privates....with a corresponding stain.
The doctor politely closed the door after the generals and ran some diagnostics. He then injected Andre with a pain suppressor and left quickly, to change his pants. After everyone left, the crossbowman returned to his post and Andre drifted off into sleep.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Aug 12, 2013 9:35:24 GMT -5
Several hours later, long after visiting hours had ended, another visitor turned up, albeit in a rather unsettling silence. Talon's eyes peered around the corner, the relative darkness a safe home for him, but even that didn't make him feel safe. A groan of pain filled the hallway, making Talon's every muscle freeze. But it was feminine, another patient, recovering from whatever had happened to them. The guards on either side of the door to Andre's room shuffled on their feet uncomfortably from the noise. They were showing the first signs of fatigue, which was all the confirmation the assassin needed.
The twinkle of Talon's knives soaring through the air was all that the guard standing slightly closer to Talon saw, flashing before his eyes before a quiet, wet noise announced that it had found its mark in his companion's temple. A thin, razor-edged wire lead back to Talon's left hand, gripped tightly on the only part of it that wasn't capable of removing flesh from bone. A hard and immediate tug, as soon as the weapon had any kind of purchase in the bone it was now buried in, sent the now-dead guard toppling lifelessly onto the other man.
He'd begun moving as he gave the wire a pull, his armblade readied and shortly thereafter bloodied as it gave the struggling guard a swift death as he drew breath to call out, making the tiniest of noises on the stone flooring as it passed through his throat from front to back. To the man's benefit, he'd managed to draw, but his position on the floor made his swing far from ideal, wide, though only barely. He left the world with a fight in him. How very Noxian, Talon reflected grimly.
The Blade's Shadow coiled his knife once more and held it in his hand, using one of the clean edges to slide under the door, carefully checking the reflection for further marks on the other side. Seeing only one body, propped against the opposite wall and on alert from the series of strange noises, Talon smirked. The blood had begun to pool on the floor, coating part of him as he laid upon the floor. "No one would be that far from the entrance with a melee weapon, a longbow was not going to be an effective choice either. Hand axe, crossbow, knives?" He mused quickly, but decided the first two would be no issue and the third was something he understood more intimately than perhaps everyone he knew.
"All but one..." The thought struck him unbidden and was thrown away just as quickly as he steeled himself.
He stood and placed himself against the wall aside the door, holding the knob for a moment before giving it a quick twist and shoving it open. A bolt slammed into the door across the hall with an angry thump as Talon flung himself into a deadly show of acrobatics, his body parallel to the floor, moving through the air just above waist height. The man was good, having fired within instants of Talon's body showing, but it had been an expected killshot on a standing target, redirected but a fraction of a second too late for the aerial roll.
As a tiny shred of Talon's hood was impaled in the opposite door, his arm flicked out and reddened the wall behind his target, parting the final guard's throat and leaving him gasping for his final breath. A sickening sound, one that would be long silenced if he hadn't been off by those few inches. It was over in perhaps seconds, with Talon upon the other side of the door, his heart beating relentlessly in his chest. A mixture of thrill and the realization that a single hair lower and his head would be intimately acquainted with the business end of a Noxian military issue crossbow bolt.
The assassin ended the man's breathless sputtering and choking, sparing none their mercy, before closing the door he entered through and approaching the bedridden Bleakwood, coiling his knife once more. Even battered and bruised, healing from a valiant fight, he was very obviously a High Command General. He recognized the man, much as he thought he would, that lay before him. The throwing weapon was stowed away safely before Talon reached out and gave Bleakwood's face a swift, firm slap to rouse him.
"Wake up, General." Talon said, plainly, as if he were doing nothing more than talking over tea. The tip of his blade hovered above the man's throat, angled just so to be immediately fatal.
Post by Andre Bleakwood on Aug 14, 2013 21:53:01 GMT -5
The Pain suppressor had taken a lot of energy out of Andre and it was only the slap that awoke him. As much as Andre would normally pride himself on awakening alert, the drug numbed his senses and he could barely register the purple hooded figure at all.
A summoner. Arrogant bastard thought he could push his way around a general?
"You have any idea who you have just pissed off. I am not-..." Started the dress-down, but such thoughts left his mind when his vision focused on the blade.
"Wait....Talon." Andre spat as words filled his mind. Traitor. Noxus's most wanted. Assassin. Marcus's brat. "Why are you here accosting an old wounded warrior? I can promise you the corpse of Marcus Du Couteau is not in my bandages." He growled with his normal intolerance he gave those who were not members of the High command or Champions on the fields for Noxus. Talon was once a champion, but no more.
His mind next went to try to see a way out....his men were dead or dying. Talon wouldn't be talking right now if this wasn't the case. His bones were no where near repaired to the point of fighting.....Likely no guard was within earshot.... Not very good odds. Worse yet. He had no control over this.
Marcus was a good (In Noxian terms) man. Maybe...just maybe, his ward was as well and would grant him some manner of respect.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Sept 6, 2013 20:34:20 GMT -5
The dull response Talon received informed him that the ailing general was in no shape to run and perhaps able to do very little else but talk. It was exactly how he wanted him.
"I know you didn't touch a hair on Marcus' head. However, I'm sure you know that I don't do anything without a reason." Talon returned, face obscured in the shadow of his hood. Of course, even if it were visible, any spark of emotion would have long since been eradicated, replaced by the steely mask of determination.
"There was an oversight in your overseers plans. I'll admit freely, it's taken years to unravel the secrets. I've scoured every nook and cranny of Valoran, killed men and women far removed from my goal in search of answers. But there's one thing your fucking dictator didn't account for when he took Marcus." Talon seethed, a show of unrestrained anger bubbling up in his voice, teeth grinding together audibly. "Me."
Talon's flare of irritation subsided not long after, replaced with an amused smile. "It's interesting, really, but I'm sure you don't care. It has nothing to do with you. If I could simply walk into the cripple's room and take his head, I would." A short, soft sigh, almost strangely longing.
"Still, I know who you are. You're a good, Noxian man. Unconcerned with politicking because you know that a man is only worth as much as he can kill for himself. I respect you, Marcus did too. Regrettable that this is your final day but you know that you'll have died in service to mother Noxus." Talon paused briefly, his blade still hanging in the air unflinchingly. "You just picked the wrong side of a war you didn't know was happening."
Post by Andre Bleakwood on Sept 11, 2013 0:30:34 GMT -5
"Then be done with it. I want to get all nice and settled before you join me in hell." This was not how he wanted to die, but in no way would he not give his death the same attitude as his life. Blunt, rude, and without a single flinch.
Andre raised his head defiantly, turning just enough to give Talon a clear opening to all the important blood vessels in the neck. He may not face Talon, but his eyes remained focused on him. "Blood for Noxus." He growled grimly.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Sept 12, 2013 12:09:37 GMT -5
The words rang sour in Talon's ears, the voices of many a Noxian patriot speaking out in harmony. They each had lives, had dreams... Ambitions, goals, desires, whatever they wished them called, they no doubt had them. Were they left unfulfilled? Perhaps if they were weak. The strong can accomplish what they wish.
Kavyn's face flickered into Talon's memory for a moment. It was in that second, watching the boy's life slowly drain away, blood pouring from his gaping throat, that Talon had made his choice. Perhaps it had lead him here, to this very moment, standing over an ailing man, poised to kill.
His blade arm jolted forward mechanically, taking Andre's life without a flicker of emotion, sparing the man the gurgling, choking agony Kavyn must have felt so many years ago. The sheets stained quickly, blood leaving the body with great haste from the wide puncture wound through the front and back of Andre's throat. Without missing a moment, Talon gathered a dry portion of the man's bedding and removed it with a flick of his blade.
It found its way into the blood pooled atop the soaked mess of the sheet and mattress before Talon turned to the wall and began to smear the evidence upon it, watching as a few droplets slithered for the floor while he worked. He appraised his work for a moment, not to savor the macabre scene he had created, but to be sure that the message he intended to send would reach its target. He turned, placed one of his knives in the man's dead fingers, placed the hand upon the corpse's own chest and turned to leave.
The guards he left as is, caring only to modify the target of the assassination, as well the large mural of dried blood. It was a simple insignia, a circle as wide as a man was tall with a capital "T" painted within, as large as would fit. It was grisly, to an end. It was shocking, abhorrent.
It would spread like wildfire on the lips of the Noxian layfolk.
He had lived the streets. He had heard the stories. It only took one of the wrong set of eyes to see it, the wrong ear to catch a word of it, before everyone in the gutters knew that High Command was being bloodied. Talon suspected the further one stood from the muck and mire of his childhood, the more this would cause them to rally.
But the poor... The hoodlums, the gangs, the pickpockets and harlots that teemed like rats, the children left squalling in the streetsonedaybecauseithappenedtobeconvenient. The memory was crushed down into nothingness, echoing the tightness in his throat as he made his flight
They would see the elite failing. The rigid way of things coming apart at the seams. The sky crashing down about their heads. Some would see it as a sign, a notice to flee, find somewhere else, some other way. Others still would see a chance, a throat to slit, a life to make for themselves.
A good man died this day to birth a rebellion. Talon could only hope that it would not lay still as it tried to first draw breath.
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