Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 27, 2013 14:08:13 GMT -5
(( Tentative canonical date: January 31st, 23 CLE ))
The morning of the address, the Noxian entourage arrived at the Institute of War in all its green-and-gold splendor. Well-bred horses marched in perfect sync, stomped the ground when they drew to a halt at the foot of the imposing building. The footman of the largest carriage hurried down from his perch, pulled open the ornate door and bowed his head, awaiting the egress of his distinguished passengers.
Six High Command generals descended onto the path, stepped aside and stood at attention as the seventh member of their party emerged. Noxus' Grand General, though frail in form, emitted an imposing aura as he drew himself up, glared around and limped down the carriage stairs--step, step, cane--alighting before the seemingly infinite incline of the Institute staircase. Cane in hand, he scowled.
From a second cart, another man was extracted. Two Raedsel guards escorted their shackled prisoner to a suitable position behind the military procession. Then, slightly slowed by their leader's faltering gait, the party began its ascent to the ziggurat's peak, where representatives from both Ionia and the Institute had aready begun to assemble.
Post by Ethan Ramseyt on Jan 27, 2013 19:31:24 GMT -5
At the top of the impressive flight of stairs sat an equally astounding gathering, witnesses of the important meeting that was to take part. Citizens of Ionia, Noxus, Demacia, Freljord and everywhere in between had assembled to see what was so important to pull the Noxian heads-of-state from their home. The news of a public address by none other than a champion was running through the gathered crowd swiftly, causing a fairly boisterous amount of noise.
The crowds, for as large as they were, were respectfully abiding their place, seated off to either side of the landing on row after row of seats. Unranked summoners flitted about nervously to ensure everything was in order while the Noxian procession climbed ever closer toward the stage that had been created for the event. A dark wood table, ornate in every way such a piece of furniture could be, sat away from the head of the stairs, a handful of magnificent chairs lining its far edge, clearly intended for the presiding summoners to use. Flanking either side of the table was an assortment of physically imposing summoners, each possessing a trim of silver or higher. Their purpose was clear, chosen as they were for both their magical and physical prowess, enforcers insofar as the League could muster.
Nearer to the top of the stairs were a pair of much more mundane desks with simple yet comfortable seating, one adorned with Noxian colors, the other with Ionian. Between the two seating areas for the presiding diplomats and that of the League's representatives was a raised podium, complete with a glowing ring of magic surrounding it. It was not clear to many what the purpose of the enchanted ring was, simply a barrier in which to hold the accused until he had given his address. While they did not think him overly dangerous, every rule had to be followed in the essence of fairness.
It was only now that those chosen as official representatives gathered in their seats, summoners from various walks of life. Each took his or her seat, leaving three chairs, those in the center most positions, empty. One was likely not to be filled anytime, always set out for official business but never occupied, the seat of the missing High Councilor Reginald Ashram. The other two were of similar purpose, though their owners were likely busy with far more pressing matters than that of a simple public address. Were they to show, their presence would be welcomed, but the likelihood of such a thing was low.
It was from his seat at the Institute's table that Ethan Ramseyt sat, his dedication to the case and skillful showing at the previous hearing securing him a spot as the primary speaker for these particular proceedings. His gaze was almost imperious, spurred into a sense of purpose by his station. While it was not an overly important job, it was larger than any he had undertaken in past. His words would need to be concise, though the communication of words and ideas was hardly something that came to Ethan with any semblance of difficulty.
He stood, voice booming out over the din of the crowd by magical aid to silence them, "People of Valoran. Our proceedings this day will commence when those of Noxus and Ionia have assembled and the accused has arrived. Thank you for your patience. Summoners presiding over today's events..." His address trailed off into the crowd, outlining the how's what's and why's of their purpose here today, as well as the League's hands that allowed it to happen.
When he once more sat, the only noise that dominated the area was the rush of wind atop the high stairs and the distinct sound of steps climbing the stairs ahead of him. It was nearly invisible to the crowd but Ethan's typically stoic face was cracked, the slightest smile playing across his lips, pleased with just how appropriately the crowd reacted to his presence. This was justice and while it was not directly from his hand, he would be the one to speak it this day. This was his dream.
Do not falter from the path of peace, justice and truth will set you free.
Post by Gillam Dunwall on Jan 27, 2013 20:14:55 GMT -5
Gillam was one of the many Demacians assembled to watch the Noxian regime under the command of this "Jericho Swain" fellow. The Time-Lost Knight had only known Noxus under one man's command. That man was Boram Darkwill. With a new face leading Noxus, perhaps the city-state had changed the error of their ways.
However, Gillam doubted this. Ever since he was unfrozen, he had heard of the League, and how Noxus had suddenly withdrew from it. Gillam didn't like the idea of the League, or the Institute of War. In fact, he was strongly against it. However, even his fellow Demacians agreed that this "League" was actually a good idea.
Gillam had lived in the time where Noxus was the enemy. Even today, he still held this fact to be true. The League was formed to keep peace between Noxus and Demacia, but Gillam didn't want peace. He wanted Noxus to be blown off the face of Valoran, by any means possible. Perhaps this new Noxus is different... Gillam thought reassuringly. However, the Demacian did not completely believe this either. Even if the League was a good idea, Noxus withdrawing from it raised further questions about the city-state's legitimacy.
Gillam held his hand near his belt, where a hidden shortsword was kept. He had brought it just in case Noxus suddenly opened fire on the public. After all, the only Noxus he had known for most of his life was a hostile one.
Gillam's hand shook, then swiftly flew away. No...I can't do that... Gillam was a Demacian. He believed in order and justice, and if he charged at the collective mass of green and gold Noxians, that would defy both of these virtues he believed in. Gillam remained in the crowd, gritting his teeth, but otherwise remaining peaceful.
Last Edit: Jan 27, 2013 20:25:35 GMT -5 by Gillam Dunwall
"No matter the era, I am Demacian, through and through."
Post by Vessaria Kolminye on Jan 27, 2013 21:01:03 GMT -5
As Ethan began his wordy voyage along the path of justice, a soft glow could be seen at the doorway of the impressive architecture - the male's booming voice muted the dazzlingly entrance, as per intention. From the aureate glimmer came forth a figure arrayed in the profound resplendence of both purple and gold, decorated with a single blue crystal on each sleeve. A high collar nestled against dark amaranthine hair - a notable difference from the hood that usually accompanied a Summoner's garment, and understandably so. The whole attire settled well against a rather tall, alluring woman who seemed to radiate over authority. There would be no mistaking it; High Councillor Vessaria Kolminye had appeared, though to what end was undefined to the public.
Her lightly painted lips curved upwards into a subtle smile as Ethan sat himself down. The look of satisfaction on his face did not go unnoticed, but she would keep the note to herself. Vessaria looked towards the crowds amassing, the glints of cuffs on the so-called guilty flickering in and out of sight. Her face was impassive, her posture refined as she watched Noxus' Grand General himself make his way up the marble steps with indeterminable ease. He was accompanied currently by his many generals whilst the shackled man behind him simply had two grasping at his shoulders. Vessaria had been informed that the representative for Ionia would be their very own Captain of the Guard and Champion, Irelia. However, a look around told her that she had not yet made her appearance.
Once she had finished her appraisal of the congregation, Vessaria took to her seat in the center, seemingly unconcerned with the empty chairs by her side. She set her hands on the table before her, fingers pressed together; a picturesque image of serenity yet her piercing crimson eyes never lacked its authoritative flash. Though her initial appearance would not have gone unnoticed, Vessaria had also chosen not to speak. However, from the recesses of her mind, she directed a quiet thought to the blonde Summoner currently presiding over the address, simple yet concise.
"I am simply here to oversee the hearing, in the event that things do not go as we have hoped. I trust you will handle this situation with very delicate precaution."
It was true that a situation like this would not have normally gathered her interest so formidably. But with Noxus' secession from the League, she felt it prudent to attend. It was not so much a concern that Ethan Ramseyt would be unable to orchestrate the event in a professional manner - his conduct during Jericho Swain's speech had been acceptable in her eyes. Even so, Vessaria knew her presence would be necessary, if to even a miniscule degree.
Grim and furious eyes fixed on the withering form of the Grand General, as he observed him hobbling up the steps. He'd arrived earlier with a procession of maesters, advisors and other old men his Father had deigned necessary to bring along with him. The Prince had insisted upon an armed guard to accompany them, as he'd lost all faith in the League when the Eternal Nightmare had arrived in his city.
As he watched the twisted and sickly man continue up the steps, he found himself losing his composure, his rage evident on his face and his body. Perhaps Father was incorrect in his decision to bring me along. He thought. Nothing would have kept me back though. Except... His mind flitted to the De'Vara girl, and he immediately stifled it, returning to his brooding.
I'm entirely too curious. He thought once more, glancing at the summoner's around him, the Noxian mass, and those that were gathered with him. I wonder if I could strike him down before anyone could react. He looks like a shell of his former self. I wonder what Father's thinking. Tossing a look behind him, his face changed from inquisitive to bewildered. His Father was chuckling over some small joke that one of the page's from the lesser houses had blurted out.
The Prince shot an angry glance at the boy before pointing towards the steps, his regality all but forgotten, wanting nothing more but to be somewhere else. He still had nightmares over his time in Urgot's battalion, at the mercy of Swain's whims. As a Prince, he knew his presence was necessary yet hated every moment of it. He took some small pastry off of one of the surrounding plates, angrily eating it and staring daggers at the man at the steps.
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2013 18:14:11 GMT -5 by Deleted
Post by King Jarvan Lightshield III on Jan 27, 2013 21:38:38 GMT -5
The king's good-natured smile faded when he caught a glimpse of his son's outraged expression. Of course, his majesty Jarvan III was not exactly thrilled by present company, but he was no stranger to diplomacy, and so he approached the prince, laying a paternal hand upon his shoulder. "Be easy, my son. Maintain the peace."
The king took his seat beside his son, off the main stage, in the area designated for Demacian representatives. Blue and gold banners hung from the desk. Various legislators and advisors bustled about, getting settled. His majesty spoke again, "Whatever comes to pass today, maintain your poise. You are the Exemplar of Demacia, and one day, you will take charge of our country. Your reputation is of utmost importance, my son." Though the benevolent twinkle never left the king's brown eyes, he frowned, set his jaw, anticipating the impending address.
"In our eternal forward march, we must stomp out evil all across Valoran wherever it may grow. Leave no stone unturned: the roots of one ignored weed will inevitably corrupt the whole of the garden.”
Post by kevinxsenpai on Jan 27, 2013 22:10:34 GMT -5
An unfamiliar carriage soon pulled up to the grand steps of the Institute. It stopped near the Grand General's entourage of coaches. Soon after, its doors would open and reveal its owner. Vladimir, The Blood Lord stepped out of his transport, but stopped to turn back and offered his hand to some one inside. A young girl would soon take his hand and step out beside him. They would walk up to the massive collection of stairs and begin their journey upwards. When they reached the top, Vladimir would soon recognize many familiar faces. Swain, located on the grand stage, Jarvan the third and fourth in the crowd of Demacians. He looked at Jarvan the fourth and recognized the look in his eyes. The look of hatred and the urge to kill. Vladimir knew this look all too well. He would be watching the Demacian in case he decided to make a move on the Grand General. He ignored any and all summoners that would try to speak to him as well as any other nobles of Noxus.
He found two seats near the front of the rows, sitting in one and having his companion in the other. He turned to her now. "We are here to ensure that the meeting goes over as planned, any moves on the General and I give you my permission to attack any and all potential enemies. Though, i do not recommend it, as it seems there is some highly trained personel here." Vladimir eyed the Demacian soldiers Jarvan had brought. "Its best that you just find somewhere safe to hide until everything is under-control. I won't be able to protect you and the Grand General if things turn to violence. Do you understand?"
Admiral Titus Flavius spectates from the front row Jericho Swain and his entourage of Noxian military officers making their way into the stage. He turns his head slightly to see Vessaria Kolminye in the center stage. The Ionian delegates have not arrived, due to their missing presence. He disguised himself as a summoner, not wanting anyone to know of his presence.
Titus has not lost faith in the League, but everyday it is wavering as if a person's whole chest stands on the edge and is teetering off the cliff. In his eyes, they are a temporary political defense for Bandle City against the Noxians and the Void. If the negotiations go successfully, then Titus can rely on the Institute a bit more for his military buildup. If the negotiations turn sour, then Titus can comprehend what would happen when a Sixth Rune War breaks out across Valoran, into the Yordle Land, and to Bandle City.
To keep himself occupied, he twiddles around a small white dwarf about the size of his small palm. It doesn't have the actual properties of an actual white dwarf (a sugar cube of it weights a ton and has bad radiation), but Titus has made sure it glows beautifully as if it is a beacon of hope. Titus levitates it around spontaneously, just to play around it. He can only hear the low hum of the white dwarf. Just seeing a star in the palm of his hand made Titus chortle.
Titus keeps a cute and curious look on his face as he randomly seeks around the various crowds. The Ionians still haven't arrived yet."Ionians..." he thought. "They're fashionably late."
Post by Hildebrand Runeblood on Jan 27, 2013 23:03:52 GMT -5
While he said nothing and did not react outwardly in the slightest, Hildebrand Runeblood, Diamond-Ranked Senior Summoner of the League of Legends stood alongside the other representatives of the League. His icy blue eyes were fixed in the Noxian party, ever-watching. His hood was pulled up over his face, casting a shadow over much of his features, save for his mouth, and his eyes which seemed to glow ever so slightly with a faint azure hue as he contemplated the sight before him, and the actions of the Grand General over the last few days.
You'd risk this land's peace with your actions, Jericho Swain... And to what end? Safety? Security? These are things the League provides, and yet you have turned your back on all for which the institution stands. The Senior Summoner sighed softly to himself. What is your motivation today, truly?
Carmilla had followed Vlad inside the meeting hall and had taken a seat beside him.. she recognized Jarvan, and the king, and the Grand General, though the summoners were unfamiliar to her, as well as the yordle. Carmilla was thinking over something when her master addressed her, she turned her head and listened as he spoke, silently nodding afterwards. "Yes master." She replied.. though, whether she would find a place to hide remains to be seen.. she wouldn't openly disobey her master, but at the same time.. a place to hide might not be available entirely.
Carmilla then simply sat in silence, her blood red eyes scanning over everyone in the room.. there was no real "easy" target for her if things got.. messy, but she would make due.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 28, 2013 0:21:42 GMT -5
After a laborious climb, the Grand General alighted upon the official platform before the summoner table, looking particularly shrunken and pallid. His gaze fell upon the furious face of Jarvan IV and a flash of hatred twisted his own features--but only briefly before he returned his crimson gaze to the council, re-focused on the task at hand.
He acknowledged the presiding powers with a curt nod. "Council. High Councilor," and turned to watch the Noxian procession finish its climb. The two Raedsel assigned to Varus set their prisoner upon his knees before the table. Though bound--and perhaps a bit unkempt from his time in the dungeons--The Arrow of Retribution looked free from bodily harm.
"The prisoner, as arranged," Swain growled. He folded his hands over his cane, awaiting a response from the master of ceremonies.
Post by The Mad Chemist on Jan 28, 2013 1:14:44 GMT -5
A metallic carriage moved by technology and not horses arrived to the institute inside of it were tree mans a driver, the Zaun’s Chief Executive and the mad chemist. The two men disembarked the vehicle and entered the meeting ,the tension was high inside the room and Swain had just given up his prisoner. The two men’s took seat as far as possible from the Demacian and Ionian representatives and listened carefully to the meeting after all it was a pivotal point of resent history.
Post by The Cardmaster on Jan 28, 2013 2:28:56 GMT -5
The ever curious gypsy's location could be discovered among the crowd by his signature hat. The events of Valoran had interested him, and of course he wanted to know...who had all the chips? Was his survival threatened by any of the possible outcomes? Always in it for himself, he would side with whoever had the greatest advantage...unless Destiny set events to transpire different than his predictions.
As of right now Twisted Fate assumed the chip count was about even, but maybe he would learn important information from these proceedings. He might hear what no one else would, something that would lead him in the right direction, or...he may just be wasting his time. Not that it mattered, because unlike a certain someone he did not lose a chunk of his life in the locker.
Last Edit: Jan 28, 2013 2:34:33 GMT -5 by The Cardmaster
Post by The Will of the Blades on Jan 28, 2013 4:33:12 GMT -5
If one would look carefully at the distant horizon, they would notice a large carriage heading towards the meeting hall, as if it was coming out straight from the glowing sun. The carriage held on its side a familiar symbol, one that anyone could easily identify if they were able to see the two serpentine creatures circling around the tall golden painted tree, surrounded by a silver tainted frame decorated with rare ruby gems.
As the cart came closer, the ground started to tremble and rumble, the little stones were jumping around in panic as they got stomped by the horses, and rolled over the by the wooden wheels, before resting back on the cold, rough ground as the animals took an immediate halt. The doors began to open up, rising the curiosity of the observers who were watching; until the Ionian Captain stepped down from the vehicle and landed on the ground in a loud thud, the heavy metal pieces of her attire colliding in one another, creating a distorted melody of steel.
Accompanied by her blades, Irelia focused her attention on the structure, her green eyes noting every detail before she began to move onward towards the entrance door. She could hear the crowd's loud voice that was penetrating through the walls, reaching for her ears as it became higher and higher the closer she was, almost nullifying the sound of her steel boots that were colliding with the ground.
Irelia walked in the large meeting hall, eying the crowd as she stood there for a moment, giving an imposing glare to those who'd look at her in the eyes. She didn't seem to be in a good mood as for now, especially since it's a meeting that concerned the actions of one of her fellow champions, Varus... Being one of the first people to bear the news of his actions, she was quite displeased, yet somehow confused: Why would Varus blindly launch an assault on Noxus without even taking the necessary preparations? Not that she agreed with it, but it seemed that Varus was losing his reasons and sharpness, and the fault might be on the corruption that was consuming him bit by bit.
The woman took a seat, glancing at the champions and known people curiously before locking her attention on the regime leader, Swain. A sour taste rose in her mouth at the sight of the man, fueling her thoughts with anger and distrust that she couldn't explain herself. Although it was said that this assembly was mounted up to negotiate a peace treaty, she would rather stay cautious about it and pay attention to every single word that will be pronounced during this session, remaining silent unless her voice is necessary.
Walking alongside the Lightshields was Xin Zhao, he slowly turned his head to see who the Prince was staring down. It was fairly obvious as soon as he saw him. Swain, Grand General. He kept an eye on him for a few seconds before turning back to his front, continuing to follow the group. He kept his stern disposition as they approached their section, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside the two. He kept quiet for now, but was ready for anything that could happen, especially given that both the King and Prince were among the group.
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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