Post by The Cryophoenix on Nov 9, 2013 3:05:32 GMT -5
The moment that Tryndamere entered the tavern, the climate shifted. A fierce wind blew toward him for so long as his cloak of rage burned around him. Her eyes locked upon his, not in with the warmth of meeting an old friend, but the cold brutality of a hunter selecting its prey. This so-called king was the epitome of the humans. Driven by rage and anger, he was a force fit only for war and strife. What peace and prosperity could possibly grow from his kind? And what force could stop them, in their eternal arms race to destroy each other, from taking down Runeterra itself in their zealous final blow?
Trapped though she was, still half-buried in the snow and ice, Anivia steeled her nerves. Hand near the hilt of his blade, no doubt he came to strike down a threat to his people. Slowly he walked, without uttering a word, carefully making his way through scattered chairs and tables. With effort, she wrenched her left wing free from the snows. Desperate to escape, she beat the air furiously, sending wave after wave of frigid air over both the King and the trapped Barbarian.
Yet when Tryndamere finally stood over her, he reached not for his sword but for the beam that pinned her to the ground. Her vision flickered, the fire fading from her eyes. These were not demons bent on destroying the world, but mortals doing the best they could with their lives. Shaking her head, she took in the scene before her as if for the first time, “What madness is this…” The breath held no anger, nor apology: only confusion. She drew herself up, no longer a feral creature, but the Cryophoenix of the north. The silvery veins that twisted through her body swelled with power as she brought both wings down a final time, “Enough.”
In an explosion of white powder, all the ice that clung to her body dispersed into the air, including that which threatened to claim the elder barbarian’s hand. As the dust settled, a single white rune blazed upon her chest, slowly dimming to a faint outline over time. Anivia would appear almost translucent, standing in the midst of a field of debris. She had hoped her state might remain secret as she relayed her news to the Queen and King only, but no doubt all of Rakelstake already knew for the chaos she sewn. She allowed her head to sag: confused, vulnerable, and harming those she sought to help, her arrival had gone terribly wrong.
Post by The Barbarian King on Nov 9, 2013 10:42:48 GMT -5
As Tryndamere reached for the beam intending to free the Cryophenix of her impairment, her wings gave way to a wave of white, flooding the room temporarily. The King shielded his eyes from the sudden lack of visual input, and waited for it to pass. The wait gave him a chance to cool down, as the writhing tendrils of annoyance died down to nary a glow. Once it did pass, and his arm fell back to his side, he beheld the Cryophenix in her entirety. She was as small as she was when he laid eyes on her the first time, but she stood with nobility. A white mark was glowing from her icy chest, slowly fading away into an etch one could easily miss. The way she bowed her head made her seem almost embarrassed by it... well, at least this proved she was more than a simple bird of ice who threw ice at people.
As much as he wanted to ask why she was here and why she crashed into the tavern, the condition of his surrogate hammer-swinging father was a much more pressing concern in his mind. The King helped him to his feet, easily lifting him up with the strength of his youthful arms.
"Are you alright, old man?" The King said, humoring to both his age and how Tryndamere saw him.
Post by Tormund Hammerbearer on Nov 12, 2013 16:59:14 GMT -5
The confusion of Anivia's sudden appearance began to spread through the city like fire. The confusion began to turn to panic, panic became fear and fear lead to violence. The sounds of fighting could be heard from inside the destroyed tavern. And there wasn't anything Tormund could do to help.
His hand would not move. The burning pain of the ice began to lessen, which only began to worry him more. Any longer, and soon it might not matter if he freed his hand. The Cryophoenix said nothing or gave no indication what was happening, only staring him down with a cold gaze.
The ruckus outside was interrupted by a loud yell. Tormund recognized the voice of his king. His voice full of barely contained rage. He could not see, but Tryndamere seemed to put a end to the fight outside. The King entered the tavern a few moments later, his body mirroring the same rage he heard outside. "My king-" Tourmund started as he tried to rise. This sent a new wave of pain through his hand, sending him back to the ground.
Aniva made attempts to send Tyrndamere back, but the barbarian did not halt in his advance. "Don't!" he yelled at Tryndamere. "Don't touch her! Or you'l be stuck too!". But he continued on, removing the last beam. A sudden force then forced Tormund from Anivia, sending him to the other end of the bar.
A steady hand grabbed him and pulled him up. "Aye, I think I'll be fine." He looked at his now free hand. The skin was light blue and he couldn't feel it. He wrapped it with the left overs of a fur rug from the tavern. The relief of warm almost hurt as much as the sheer cold.
Post by The Barbarian King on Nov 12, 2013 22:43:46 GMT -5
The King could see the unnatural paleness of his hand.
"Keep it near open flame, that should thaw it out more quickly."
Tryndamere patted his elder on the shoulder, finally knowing he was alright. Now, for the Cryophenix... she still stood there, smaller than usual, and head bowed down in shame. He knelt down, so the two could talk relatively eye to eye.
"...so I see you fell through the roof, Anivia." He knew he was stating the obvious, but he wasn't there for the event itself, only the aftermath.
"...what happened? Or are these words better said within the castle walls?" His questions were blunt and to the point; such was how he thought and acted, most of the time anyways.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Nov 13, 2013 7:32:47 GMT -5
The earth wheeled about her, as though she were caught in a storm high above Valoran. The noises of Rakelstake were distant, the quiet questions between old barbarian friends lost under the silent hum of the earth. Yet at the sound of her own name, turned her head, peering at the king in silence. The moment dragged on despite the urgency of her mission; the need that pressed her onward. Could these people even be of help if they knew, struggling to survive in the cold of the Freljord? She turned away from Tryndamere, stepping from the rubble of her most recent mistake, “I died.” The words rang queerly in the heavy silence of the Hearth and Mead, the purview of necromancers and their ilk. Only from the Cryophoenix herself could those utter words be so clear, or so true.
She moved not with direction, but nervous energy, picking her way carefully around the broken beams and crushed tables of the tavern. Some brave patrons stood in its corners yet, eyeing her with suspicion. What could they possibly think of her, a creature not even of their own world bearing dire news of death and doom? No, the King alone should choose what his people are told, “I can only imagine the castle would be better.” She was distracted, seeking something else in their midst. She spotted the old man at the end of the bar, cradling his injured hand under a heavy fur.
“Citizen of Rakelstake,” she had no name for her unfortunate benefactor, “you deserved none of what you received today.” She did not make any move toward him as she perched upon the broken edge of an overturned table. “Might I have a name for the grief I have caused?”
Post by Tormund Hammerbearer on Nov 15, 2013 2:30:37 GMT -5
Tormund gave a small snort at his kings comment. "I've seen more winter's than you have my king. I know how to treat the cold." But a small art of him was worried. The Cryopheonix's ice was much colder than anything he had ever felt, not to mention magical. It might be possible that his hand would never be useful again.
"Tormund, of the barbarians." he replied curtly. Even though Anivia expressed regret for what she did, he was still a little sour after the whole ordeal.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Nov 16, 2013 8:37:19 GMT -5
Anivia shuffled her wings uncomfortably, the sensation of the barbarian’s warmth coursing through her body still vivid in her mind. She was no hatchling: she had captured many warm-blooded beast for food, and carried many a friend to safety. Not even in the grasp of a pyrophoenix had she felt such a violation at the core of her being. Despite her lifetime of experience, the Cryophoenix was at a loss to explain that magical force. She needed to know more of this barbarian’s experience, yet to reveal her fears to the barbarian may stir the imaginations of the common people of Rakelstake. If an elemental of ice cannot control its power, who possibly could? She clicked her beak in frustration, nodding low as she committed the name to her memory, “Then you have all my gratitude, Tormund.”
She turned back to Tryndamere, jumping from the table as she did so. Great gashes in the hardened oaken wood were the only outward sign of her inner turmoil, “It may be wise to seek more than just fire for that wound. I would that Tormund join us at the Palace to receive the best care you have available.”
Post by The Barbarian King on Nov 17, 2013 12:14:33 GMT -5
It was strange and amusing for Tryndamere to see a creature he had known to be ancient and wise beyond his understanding reduced to such a state of confusion. If there was something the two shared, it was the fact that neither had a good handle on the situation. The King barely hid a smirk on his face as he stood back up, Anivia talking to Tormund in the meantime. Soon though her eyes had darted back to the King, her hopping from the table leaving gashes behind. She wasn't just confused... she was agitated. But regardless of her state of being, she still seemed more than able to dispense wisdom.
The King nodded to her words. "Very well, if you think it requires that kind of care." No doubt Tormund heard them, so Tryndamere assumed he would follow.
The Barbarian King looked out the opened door to the tavern, the people of Rakelstake huddled outside, still in slight panic and worry, even if they weren't in the midst of a fistfight. Tryndamere's gaze turned back to the Cryophenix.
"The Queen will want to speak with you as well Anivia, and if this tells us anything" the King's arms raising to the gaping hole above the tavern, "I don't think flying is the best idea."
With that said... the King did something very... peculiar, for Anivia at least. He grabbed what remained of the rug that once covered the floor of this tavern, wrapping it around his arm. His right arm. He knelt down to Anivia, and extended it before her.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Nov 23, 2013 0:40:23 GMT -5
Anivia relaxed slightly at Tryndamere’s agreement; it may not help the elder man’s psyche, but at the very least she could explain herself as she traveled. She had no doubt by inspection alone that the hand would be fine, even if he did lose some of the age-old calluses on his weapon hand. It was a small price to pay, but merely one more on her growing debt. Who defends them from their defender? She began picking her way through the scattered tables, anxious to be away from the site of her disgrace. “Your recommendation is duly noted, Tryndamere,” she replied coolly. Certainly the damage to her reputation had been done, but such glib comments could hardly heal her bruised ego.
The entrance of the Hearth and Mead was well insulated, a mass of furrs and wood designed explicitly to keep out the cold. What irony. Anivia paused at the threshold, waiting for her human companions to make clear the way forward, yet when she turned to await their approach, the King knelt before her. For a brief moment she was staggered by the apparent reverence he held. It was not uncommon for her kind to be worshipped as gods. A single glance into his eyes dashed such illusions. He wasn’t offering praise, but rather demanding subservience. Was she to be paraded about Rakelstake like little more than a favored hunting beast? She turned her head in disgust only to catch the ruined pub behind him. She had already sown the seeds of chaos with her arrival. What Tryndamere needed now more than anything was to show his people that he commanded the situation. What better way than to show she did not?
“Very well.” Her voice was as icy as her body. With little more than the chilling flick of her wings, Anivia lept to the offered arm, hoping only that the strength of his sword arm would hold her weight. Her talons gripped tightly around the Barbarian’s wrist, a cool touch despite the fur’s presence. With a flash, her eyes flared red with power and the cold receded from her talons; she sought to mitigate any lasting harm that contact might cause. The King was, after all, a friend and ally. "Lead us onward."
Post by The Barbarian King on Nov 24, 2013 19:20:41 GMT -5
After Anivia's icy weight was finally placed on the King's strong arm, he arose from his position, now standing with the Cryophenix to his side. He turned his head to make sure Tormund was following; no doubt he was. Tryndamere strode forward, much more like the majestic king he normally never showed, but the... regal qualities of holding something avian in nature upon one's arm or shoulder was undeniable. There he was though, walking up to the palace through the crowds of his people, watching as he carried Anivia up the stone, snow laden steps to his home. No words needed to be said to the crowd, for the Cryopheix's presence upon Tryndamere's arm was evidence enough that the issue was no more, and that they could rest and relax, return to the hearths in their own homes.
The King, meanwhile, had a Cryophenix to bring to the queen. Step by step he marched closer to her... something he wasn't necessarily looking forward to. He turned to the Cryophenix then, thinking he could say something, but he couldn't drum up a conversation that took pertinence over Anivia's current situation. The King was at a loss for words, so he merely continued to walk forward, dreading the inevitable communication he would have to do with Ashe. Though he did not want to admit it... he and the queen were not on the best of terms. It was true that they were in a political union for the betterment of the Freljord, and that has been going rather well. But... there was no love between them. Others might have thought this or perhaps the King and Queen wanted to believe in such an idea... but it was all disillusionment. Although their relationship was doing well in the political ring, in the field of romance it was dry and barren. On top of this, Ashe's recent kidnapping and Tryndamere's consistent inability to forget his revenge only made things between the two much more strained.
If Anivia was any reader of expressions, the King had a stony look in his eyes. There was a lot going on that he had not said, and likewise with her. He might be unstoppable on the fields of battle, but the world was grinding him down. And on the inside... his vengeance was eating him alive. But... the castle gates were coming into view, and he could soon allow the Cryophenix to walk soon. A small comfort, but it was he could look forward to.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Dec 17, 2013 18:54:06 GMT -5
“And so the people will watch and take heart in their King’s mastery.” Her beak did not move with the utterance, well below the din of the crowd. Anivia’s ruby eyes blazed as she stared back at the people of the Freljord. Their strength and determination shone clear on their well-worn faces. This land was not one for the soft or weak of will - they were ready to fight whatever evils may approach them. They needed only to know its true face to raise arms. A shame that it had no face. She shifted nervously, talons clenching tightly at the barbarian’s arm through the thick fur he held. “It was just as well that they perceive the unity of our cause. This is bigger than any of us.” Her head bobbed slightly with the king's steps as she watched on in silence. She would not admit it, but the effort of containing her cold was nearly as strenuous as calling down a storm upon her foes, and it began to wear on her.
She remained quiet in self-reflection as they slowly made their way to the palace. She knew nothing of the world she had been reborn into. Had it been days? Months? Years? Tryndamere had shown his capacity to stave off death in battle, and his presence gave her little comfort of the time that had passed. At the very least, Queen Ashe had been mentioned, yet the king’s stony demeanor did nothing to ease her concerns. There was no doubt that she was not alone in her troubles, bringing only more concerns to a struggling land. Externally they looked the picture of royal assuredness, yet between them was naught but doubt and quandary. As the palace finally came into view, she forced a question into the chilled silence that grew in the void between them. “Come now, barbarian, if I wanted to bite, I’d have done so by now. Not even in the face of certain death have you shown such grim reserve, and I’ve yet to give the news I bear. Is it authority that weighs so heavily upon your spirit?”
Post by The Barbarian King on Dec 17, 2013 19:55:43 GMT -5
The long stretch of time where the only thing could be heard were footsteps and the frigid wind blowing overhead was finally broken by the Cryophenix. Tryndamere did not realize he wore his emotions so strongly, although he knew that they weighed his mind down greatly. Although he was nearly at the top, he paused for a brief moment. His eyes lingered on the steps in front of him in contemplation as to what he would say, but he knew that his way was the simple way. The blunt truth was all he had to say. His view turned from the path to the Cryophenix. She wanted to know? She would know.
"...the Queen and I may rule the Avarosa, but that is as far as our union goes. What people believe between us besides our leadership is an illusion; it doesn't exist. And nothing will for as long as I have this rage inside of me."
He continued his trudge up the rest of the steps until he was finally standing upon a large flat stretch of stone. Everything was relatively flat from here, and what small short steps there were could easily be jumped by the Cryophenix. Tryndamere reached his arm back down, letting her off to walk; he quickly stood back up, stretching his arm from the heavy weight which too recently was perching on it, rotating it and turning the forearm muscles.
"It is that, and other things that are best said within the castle walls."
His stony, grim visage only seemed to worsen as he thought about it. It was not something he was truly comfortable talking about, although he knew it was better to say it than to leave it to fester.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Dec 18, 2013 5:02:07 GMT -5
The Cryophoenix tilted her head to one side as she listened to Tryndamere’s words. Though her face showed little, it was all she could do to prevent herself from scoffing at the man who carried her onward. Romance? Through all this man had gained and all he had ripped away from him, it was love that ripped him asunder? No, it was not even that, for what could a human know of love? ...What could they know? Her derision froze in an instant, solidifying into a far more sinister doubt.
She stepped from the Barbarian King’s arm in a daze. The humans had shown power, knowledge, and wisdom far above most races she had ever encountered. She had almost thought to count them as peers in her fight to protect their world. Yet they were young. So very, very young. They held not their own knowledge, but that which could be distilled and passed down through the generations. She peered at the man before her. Certainly he was man she had known, fought beside and against countless times. Except he wasn’t fully. In such little time, so much had changed. The mortals would be forever young, forever learning, and forever trapped in their unstable wash of chaotic emotion. She sighed gently, wondering not for the first time whether there was any purpose in coming to Rakelstake. “Then perhaps we should take the next few steps together, King Tryndamere, before we both say what must be said,” she crooned almost gently, turning toward the palace. Night may have just settled over the Freljord, but it would be long before any truly found rest.
Post by The Barbarian King on Dec 21, 2013 5:45:05 GMT -5
The King was silent, nodding at her words. He strode forward, guards to his left and right standing like stalwart sentinels. With his strong arms he pushed open the gates to the castle, and exposed the cozy interior to the snow and cold, letting it billow in as he continued to walk. He had a Queen to see, and a Cryophenix to deliver; little would stop him.
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