Post by The Deceiver on Jan 15, 2013 23:30:21 GMT -5
Somewhere in Noxus, at the Ivory Ward, in a ruined, dusty building, there laid splintered furniture. Near this broken furniture, an trapdoor laid ajar. Down the small, winding staircase, luxurious furniture rested in a decimated state. Whoever or whatever had gotten here before was most thorough in their search.
Not thorough enough.
On the fourth stone in the third column, twelfth row, in the southern wall, if one knew where to look, one would know the truth. Anyone who could come into the house had to be expected, and then greeted by a man in a well pressed tuxedo.
Once they were admitted, they would be granted access to the portal that led to where the heart of the Black Rose's organization: LeBlanc's room. Where it was in Runeterra, how to get there through natural means, one could only guess.
One thought the room was normal at first glance, but when they realized it, they would notice something was off. There were walls, but if they tried walking towards or reaching for the walls, they would never make it. They would swear there was a bed in one blink of the eye, then meat hooks in the next blink, then nothing but the softest of sofas that littered about. The only thing that was a constant was the table in the middle of the room, with two chairs, and a pot of hot tea.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 15, 2013 23:48:11 GMT -5
Through the ruins, through the dust, the train of a Noxian military robe trailed in the night. The footsteps of its wearer were uneven, accompanied by the quiet click of his cane upon the stone. He approached the wall, laid a gnarled hand upon the fourth stone in the third column, twelfth row, and spoke, hoping to find her awake. (She would be, wouldn't she, even at this forsaken hour?) "Permit me entry, Matron LeBlanc. We've much to discuss."
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 15, 2013 23:52:02 GMT -5
The stone hummed, and the High General would know that he could step through the wall itself. Once he had, he would find LeBlanc sitting on a chair, at a table, pouring a cup of tea for him. On the table rested a little golden box. She flicked it open and revealed the carrion that rested within it.
"Do come in, Jericho. Tea is ready, and so are Beatrice's num num's." The Deceiver tittered ever so slightly, placing the box over on the side where Swain would sit. "Tell me, what is there to discuss, High General?"
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 16, 2013 0:10:58 GMT -5
The ever-present raven fluttered down from Swain's shoulder, alighting on the table beside her box of gory treats. She began to pick at the meat, to choke it vigorously down her gullet, to settle in contentedly. Her master was not so quick to make himself at home. By the gentle light of the room, his face--or the exposed half of it--looked particularly drawn and pale. He folded his hands over his cane, his burning gaze fixed upon LeBlanc.
"I've withdrawn Noxus from the League. Plans are in motion." The general lifted his chin, gave a slight pause. "Now that we are free of the intrusive restrictions of the Institute, we will begin to strengthen our armed forces."
After this brief preamble, he shambled across the carpet, drew out one of the armchairs and lowered himself slowly into it. "I've my eye on a particular asset," he continued, leaning his cane against the table. "But I will require your distinguished skillset in its acquisition."
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 16, 2013 1:06:23 GMT -5
LeBlanc gave Swain a cheeky grin and leaned forward. Her hands came up and held her head as she settled her chin on her palms. "You make it sound as though I had not known such a thing, Jericho. This is one of the reasons as to why you've always delighted me, though. You always give it such a...mm, dramatic air." Her lips parted to show her glistening white teeth. "I like that."
The Deceiver leaned back into her chair, a cup suddenly appeared in her hand. She motioned at the Tactician to continue with his explanation. "What is it that you need me to do, Jericho?"
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 16, 2013 1:29:14 GMT -5
The general's gaze wandered to his bird, who was still gobbling down her bloody meal in apparent ecstasy. He frowned, accentuating the ever-darkening circles under his eyes, but did not otherwise respond to the matron's mockery. "The Butcher, Evaine." He used the name to catch her attention, to remind her of their familiarity--perhaps to reinforce his own aptitude. "Another of the League's mistakes--but one that can be exploited."
He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers pressed together as he continued in a low growl. "I want him. We offer him freedom, fodder for his blade, asylum from the Institute--so long as he fights under Noxus' banner. He'll be free to pursue his obsession during gaps in his duties." Here, he paused, lifted his chin.
Having finished her meal, Beatrice walked across the table, the tick-tack of her talons on wood dramatizing the moment of silence. "There is, of course, a delicate facet to this operation: the reason I require your personal involvement. It must be made to appear that the monster has broken free of his own accord."
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 16, 2013 9:07:05 GMT -5
LeBlanc finally quieted and ceased her jovial tone and playful mocking. She took a quiet sip of her tea, thinking of what Swain had asked of her.
"The butcher, you say? Hm..."
The Deceiver seemed to already be formulating a plan in her head. She nodded and looked sternly at Swain. Her voice denoted her seriousness. "I have come up with a solution to your little problem." LeBlanc placed her tea back onto the table top, the liquid within the cup not rippling despite the movement. "Tell me when you wish for him to be freed by, and he will break free of his own accord."
LeBlanc raised a slightly incredulous eyebrow as she asked, "I trust that you will have an ulterior, unforseen way to control the beast, yes? I don't want a creature who is such a slave to its desires getting out of hand that it attracts the...wrong attention." She tapped the side of her head to emphasize her next point. "The thinking type of attention."
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 16, 2013 23:26:59 GMT -5
"Of course," the general spoke curtly. He offered no further explanation, merely reiterating, "Put in his mind that Noxus would facilitate his evasion of the League and allow him pursuit of The Curator--so long as he abides by my commands."
Beatrice fluttered up onto her perch on his shoulder, settling herself with a contented caw. Swain's red eyes blazed in the soft light of the matron's chamber as he brooded. "If he threatens to become an issue, we will cut him down. Re-animate him. He may be of another world, but he is still flesh and blood."
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 18, 2013 19:13:54 GMT -5
LeBlanc nodded her head and smirked, "Tell me when you need him to break free by. If by tomorrow, that means I should cut our lovely meeting short and I would have to grumble about how abrupt it is." The Deceiver raised her index finger to punctuate what she said next. "Tell me when you plan on making the offer, and then give me an additional week in order to set the circumstances. Everything shall be done accordingly, carefully, and with the utmost discreet. The Butcher of the Sands will rampage out of his cell and no one will be the wiser as to how he had done so, save for the ineptitude of the League."
LeBlanc tapped the rim of her cup playfully. She asked in a soft tone, "Will that be all, Jericho? If so, I would like to ask you of something."
Last Edit: Jan 18, 2013 19:14:11 GMT -5 by The Deceiver
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 18, 2013 20:16:35 GMT -5
"Preparations should begin immediately," he said, taking up his cane, preparing to rise. At her final statement, he frowned ever-so-slightly. His crimson gaze fell to the table and he responded gruffly, though quietly, "What is it."
He struggled to his feet, stood crookedly before her, awaiting her reply.
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 18, 2013 21:08:42 GMT -5
LeBlanc grinned and gave a reassuring wave to Swain while speaking, "It is nothing severe, darling. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to finish your tea, and if the Black Rose's agenda is being looked after."
The Deceiver laced her fingers with one another, resting her hands on her lap as she stared at the Master Tactician. "The induction of several Black Rose members into the Noxian High Council, I just want to remind you not to forget about them, dear. That is all. I will let you know when preparations have begun and when the stage has been set for you to strike your deal, Jericho. I will not fail you, as I know you will not fail me."
She tilted her head and smiled sweetly at Swain. When she spoke, her voice sounded similar to the gentle babbling of a river, lapping on its shore. "Tah tah for now, dear."
Last Edit: Jan 18, 2013 21:09:04 GMT -5 by The Deceiver
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 18, 2013 21:27:25 GMT -5
"I have not forgotten," Swain replied flatly--before glancing down at his untouched teacup. He pursed his lips behind his shroud, then turned his gaze back to LeBlanc. "Don't think me rude, matron. Perhaps another night."
Beatrice ruffled her feathers, re-positioning herself upon her perch. Her master turned to go, bidding his host farewell with the smallest of nods, "Thank you for your services."
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 18, 2013 22:34:56 GMT -5
LeBlanc stood up from her chair and gave a polite curtsey to Swain. "For you? I will always be of service, High General Swain." Once the man left, she would sit back down in her chair, the entire room would go dark, and it would seem as though nothing existed. It was as if the room had become a paradox. Until her next meeting, LeBlanc would wait. She was a patient woman, whether her next meeting was in an hour, a day, a century, she could and would wait. LeBlanc had all the time in the world.
Post by Zorn Agammond on Jan 31, 2013 19:37:59 GMT -5
Lady Amarills Astucieux walks through the ruins... Her black dress trailing along behind her somehow not picking up the layers of dust that had settled upon the floor. Her heels not making a sound as she walks with her head tilted slightly to the side as if listening to something only she could hear. She stops at the south wall... She pauses, listens... And begins counting the stones. Fourth stone. Third column. Twelfth row. She reaches out with a finger the long black nail, taps the stone as she recounts to make sure. She presses the stone and waits. The ring on her finger constantly changing depending on who looked at it, never showing its true form unless it was another member who saw it.
Post by The Deceiver on Jan 31, 2013 19:52:56 GMT -5
A man appeared in front of Amarills in a finely pressed suit. He bowed to her and motioned to follow him. Once he stepped through the wall, she would find herself in LeBlanc's domain. The Deceiver smiled at her and pointed a chair, "Have a seat, dear. You and I, have some matters to discuss. Tea? Biscuits? Anything to tickle your fancy?"
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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