Post by Dungeon Master on Aug 11, 2013 5:28:09 GMT -5
March 5th, CLE; One day after the repulsion of the Voidlings.
In the wake of the Void invasion, the Freljord itself lay in shambles. An ominous purple glow emanated from the corrupted mountain peak, casting desperate shadows over the land. Though the glow had begun to fade from its original intensity, the mountain seemed to whisper promises of doom and defeat to all who tried to rest their weary bodies. Soldiers trudged wearily across the battlefield, seeking any who might yet live. Blood and void ichor mingled into a sickening morass that stained deep into the snows of the Freljord clinging tightly to the stiffening bodies of man and beast alike.
Despite the chaos in the wake of a great battle, the summoners of the league fought their inner demons in the relative comfort of a winter’s claw tent. Between forcing the voidlings from Runeterra as a whole and sealing the Void portals to prevent their re-entry to this plane, the small team of summoners had saved the Freljord with their spectacular display of power, though few could yet comprehend the costs of such an act. None had yet seen fit to disturb what modicum of rest they might find through a mixture of gratitude, respect, and fear of the great power they wielded. Yet with the signs of death and destruction looming for all to see, it was only a matter of time before the delegates of the league would be called upon once more.
In the wake of the Void invasion, the Freljord itself lay in shambles. An ominous purple glow emanated from the corrupted mountain peak, casting desperate shadows over the land. Though the glow had begun to fade from its original intensity, the mountain seemed to whisper promises of doom and defeat to all who tried to rest their weary bodies. Soldiers trudged wearily across the battlefield, seeking any who might yet live. Blood and void ichor mingled into a sickening morass that stained deep into the snows of the Freljord clinging tightly to the stiffening bodies of man and beast alike.
Despite the chaos in the wake of a great battle, the summoners of the league fought their inner demons in the relative comfort of a winter’s claw tent. Between forcing the voidlings from Runeterra as a whole and sealing the Void portals to prevent their re-entry to this plane, the small team of summoners had saved the Freljord with their spectacular display of power, though few could yet comprehend the costs of such an act. None had yet seen fit to disturb what modicum of rest they might find through a mixture of gratitude, respect, and fear of the great power they wielded. Yet with the signs of death and destruction looming for all to see, it was only a matter of time before the delegates of the league would be called upon once more.
