Post by The Master Tactician on Sept 23, 2013 14:30:45 GMT -5
To sleep--perchance, to dream? It was unnecessary. Adrenaline possessed him. So filled with manic purpose was he, so bolstered by the rediscovery of health, that his mind would not be stilled.
Soon, all would kneel.
The Master Tactician stood upon the balcony of Darkbourne Hold, upon the precipice over his empire, and quirked a smile. It was not an expression filled with genuine mirth, nor was it weighted down by the weakness that had so long plagued him. It was calculating, cruel, shining with electric excitement at the world laid out before him: the possibilities, now that he was no longer bound by the failings of his form, but truly a man above men.
This imposing figure, clad in newly fitted robes of black and crimson to match his flawless form, lifted his chin, parted his lips to run his tongue over his over-sharp incisors--as though still becoming accustomed to the feel of them in his mouth. Far below, the ripples of a foreign presence reached his hunter's senses: just a whiff on the air of sadism, just a flicker of a lifeforce out of place. He half-chuckled, motioned to the bird upon the balustrade and, with a swish of his cape, turned to go. The Raven hurried after, alighting on his shoulder as he shut the balcony doors. Her eyes, like his, had begun to glow green, piercing emerald in the night, leering from the shadows quite a fright.
In a few swift, purposeful strides--how steady, these, unaided by his cane!--the Grand General crossed the floor of his suite to where his mistress lay still sleeping on the grand four-poster. Her exhaustion provoked another smile, smug. Satisfaction characterized the caress he gave her alabaster arm with his knuckles before taking up his helm from the bedside table. An angular thing, cured leather turned up decoratively as though to represent wings, it cast his face in shadow, leaving only the haunting emerald of his eyes displayed.
Far below, the slinking movements of a shadow went unnoticed by the guards on-duty. She'd slipped inside while they were changing shifts. Why? Perhaps for nothing more than her own amusement.
Post by The Widowmaker on Sept 24, 2013 19:30:44 GMT -5
Evelynn's shadowy form flitted through the darkness, her lips curled into a smirk as as she infiltrated the interior of Darkbourne Hold. The shadows clung to her body as though she wore them, her body nearly completely obscured by inky black darkness that shifted with her while she moved making it near impossible for the naked human eye to see her. Sliding along the walls she moved through out the massive building in search of a certain feeling, her molten gold eyes glinting brightly with anticipation for the familiar agony that wracked the frail body she had grown to become fascinated with. The thought almost making her purr as she sneaked though the hallways, concentrating not on where she was going, but simply on sensing the pain... The longer she searched, the more she became confused.
Confusion turned to frustration, frustration lead the Widowmaker to become impatient as she ascended another stairwell in hopes that He would be on this floor, she was tempted no longer bothering to hide herself from the view of the guards and simply incapacitate them quickly and silently before she moved along. Her teeth bared now, frustrated that she still could not sense that beautiful bliss which was his pain.
Post by The Master Tactician on Sept 28, 2013 18:46:07 GMT -5
Like a predator stalking prey, the Master Tactician crossed the landing in pursuit of his unexpected guest. He suppressed the power he bore, finding control over his own aura exhilarating. For all intents and purposes, he was as shadowed as the Widomaker as he strode towards the staircase, his cape billowing out silently behind him, his hellish bird poised upon his shoulder. The only detail of his form apparent through the shroud of night were his eyes: a haunting emerald green piercing the gloom, searching the halls of Darkbourne Hold from beneath the shadow of his helm.
She was near. The impatience in her stride made the sound of her heels upon the marble stair echo through the cavernous castle. By the stairs he waited until she alighted upon the landing.
"Good evening, Evelynn." The Grand General's voice, though quiet, rang through the hall like a clocktower toll, marking the moment of her exposure. Though he could not see her in the normal sense, her lifeforce told the story of her presence better than any visual could. And moreso: it told the story of her state. She longed for something--but she would not find it here. He stepped out from the shadows, toned arms folded over his chest, and positioned himself to block her forward path.
Post by The Widowmaker on Sept 29, 2013 17:14:35 GMT -5
Evelynn paused as she saw the figure standing upon the landing, when he spoke she felt a cold shiver slide down her spine causing her to brow to knit into a frown. He had seen and heard her? No, more likely heard, she cursed herself before becoming to focused on finding that particular feeling that she had allowed herself to be discovered by what looked to be another of Swain's lackeys. Molten gold eyes burned into existence before him as he stood with arms folded, she looked upon him as though he were barely worth her time, though she couldn't help but feel there was something... familiar about him. The emerald eyes? No, that was definitely a feature she woul--
The raven.
She bared her fangs at the creature allowing the shadows to melt away from her form revealing the blue hue of her skin along with the tight fitting pink leather strappings that made up her 'clothing'. The golden eyes locked on the raven as it perched upon the mans shoulder, it looked exactly like Swain's, but it couldn't be, the eyes. They shone emerald, not the familiar crimson that she had seen countless times before upon the fields and when she had meet with Him all those months ago.
"You know me." She stated with an agitated hiss that resounded off the walls around them, impatience sounded all too clearly in her voice instead of the usual playful purr as she studied him briefly. She wanted to find Him. She didn't care about His subjects, they were of little to no interest to her, for they didn't have what she wanted, they weren't racked with constant agony that flooded one's being with ecstasy. The Widowmaker cocked her head to the side with a curious look in her eyes as she reached out with her consciousness trying to grasp at any sense of pain that might be felt nearby upon this floor of the Hold, her lips curling into a smile at the memory. Such agony, such beautiful torment... The smile vanished replaced again by the look of irritation.
Nothing, no excruciating pain plaguing someone anywhere upon the upper floors of Darkbourne Hold. Black and crimson shadowy mist formed around Evelynn's hands as she simply began to moved towards the man before her, sadistic intent glinting in her eyes, "Where is he?" she hissed. Evelynn's hands balled into fists, black and crimson mist enveloped them while she prepared to impale the man upon a row of hatespikes to torture the information from him right here and now if he didn't tell her what she wanted to know.
Last Edit: Sept 29, 2013 17:17:03 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
Post by The Master Tactician on Oct 2, 2013 1:24:30 GMT -5
A chuckle, cold, met her advance. As she lifted her hand to strike, he caught her wrist in a vice-like grip and bent her hand back into her chest. Then, in a motion more fluid than a panther's strike, the Master Tactican whirled Evelynn away from the staircase and slammed her back against the wall. The force of the impact was enough to knock the breath from her--and in that moment a surge of power coursed forth from Swain's body. His eyes flared--then narrowed with a sinister smile. He leaned in close and whispered, "Now, now. There's no need to be hostile."
He tilted his head, inspecting the Widowmaker, gauging her reaction to this sudden show of force. Just one hand, enclosed around her wrist, palm pressed against her collarbone, was enough to keep her restrained. This new power dizzied him with its emergence, intoxicating; his grin broadened. "He?" He lessened the pressure of his palm just so--enough for her to breathe--and feigned curiosity. "It must be a very desperate need you have, indeed, to find him if you would risk life and limb to sneak into my... humble abode." His voice sent chills down the spine. Another chuckle preceded his answer to her agitation:
"Yes, I know you." A pause; the raven shook her feathers, leering down at Evelynn with eyes aglow in the same emerald hue as her master's. "I'm not a terribly forgetful man." His brows rose to punctuate the statement, a gesture undoubtedly Swain's. He moved with uncharacteristic grace; his voice was no longer hoarse; he did not limp or wheeze or falter, yet he was Swain. His enunciation and imperious poise were unmistakable--and now the static in the air around him, his statuesque form, the confidence in his stride, all served to intensify his tyrannical presence.
Post by The Widowmaker on Oct 5, 2013 18:24:07 GMT -5
In a flash of fluid movements had been slammed against the wall, the breath knocked from her lungs and a look of near panic flickered in her eyes only to be quickly replaced by an almost primal fury. With unnatural strength Evelynn prepared to literally rip the mans off from his arm... But ceased instantly as those emerald eyes flared, his voice... was.. Familiar. Too familiar. Confusion plagued Evelynn's mind, she opened her mouth to speak only to realize she didn't know what to say. Her breathing sped up, partly to refill her lungs and partly because, she could feel his power.
"Your humble abo..." The word trailed off into nothing as she came to the realization, this man before her, so full with power, possibly capable of snapping her like a twig with barely a twitch of his toned arms. Was Him. His voice.. No longer feeble, the pain that had once racked his body, much to Evelynn's displeasure, was now gone...
The Widowmaker's molten gold eyes locked with Swain's own glowing emerald, a flicker of fear in here eyes as she had just tried to assault the leader of Noxus and was now, literally, in his grasp. She could tell that if he so wished, he would just squeeze and her neck would snap. She had never been this helpless, never allowed herself to be this helpless since long, long ago. The sickening feeling of helplessness was causing fear to turn to anger and frustration. Her hand balled into a fist, while she continued to watch Swain carefully, her lips involuntarily pulling into the slightest of snarls.
How had he done it? How had he shed the agony that constantly plagued him? She felt almost a sinking feeling in her chest, disappointed. There had never been such a body like his before, so twisted and tormented that she could have fed for weeks on end in utter ecstasy. But now, he was the complete opposite, so full of strength and conveyed such raw power...
Post by The Master Tactician on Oct 6, 2013 22:53:01 GMT -5
Smugness lingered on The Master Tactician's features as he watched realization dawn upon hers. He gave a slow nod and released her, straightening up. His voice, though quiet, chilled flesh and bone like the rumble of a thunderstorm. "My humble abode, yes," he nodded, smugness intensifying into a full-blown smirk. "So very good to see you again, madame."
Swain lifted his chin: a gesture that solidified his dominance, his control, his superiority as he looked down his nose at the scantily clad intruder. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He feigned an air of polite curiosity. "Whatever could be so desperate to warrant trespassing and prowling on my private property?" Again, his brows lifted, this time in mock concern. "An offense usually punishable... by death."
Slender fingers flexed in swift sequence--as though contemplating the ease with which they could snap the woman's neck. It was less an indication of malicious intent and more a game: an exploration of the power he now bore. His voice dropped an octave, cold as a winter gale, as he concluded, "A lady must be careful where she treads."
Post by The Widowmaker on Oct 9, 2013 3:50:21 GMT -5
"Punishable?" She repeated with a sultry purr, she looked up at him as he looked down his nose at her, a flash of excitement flickering in her eyes. If he were anyone else, anyone... Less. They would have been skewered upon a spike by now and be slowly be bleeding to death as Eve feed from their pain. "Desperation isn't what drove me..." She stated, the disappointment not lost in her voice as she remembered the agony that once tore at the man before her. It was nearly too hard for the Widowmaker to believe, last she had seen him, Swain had been struggling to breath at the best of times. Now? Now he looked capable of wiping out of whole phalanx by himself and still have the energy to fight a few rakkor just for fun.
At the comment about being careful where one treads, Evelynn's lips would split into a mischievous grin, "One must also learn how to receive unexpected guests... Especially important ones when they come baring news you might find rather... interesting." She studied his expression as best she could while it was mostly obscured by his helm, curious to see what his reaction would be.
Post by The Master Tactician on Oct 13, 2013 15:40:34 GMT -5
"Ah, but you are not yet a guest," said the Master Tactician, obviously savoring their exchange. Blazing emerald eyes looked her up and down, their intensity giving off palpable heat in the darkness between them. "Though you could be," he offered, low. Like his eyes, his voice carried palpable energy, an imperious quality so overwhelming it sent vibrations through the wall behind the Widowmaker. "I like interesting news."
Swain placed his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head and positioned himself before her, feet placed apart in a stance of dominance, trapping her between his powerful form and the wall. "What have you for me, starling, hm?"
Post by The Widowmaker on Oct 19, 2013 6:34:38 GMT -5
Evelynn turned to head to the right, her eyes locking onto the Grand General's arm, slowly she would follow the arm with her eyes, "A failed attempt at peace..." She chuckled, her gaze reaching his shoulder as she spoke slowly, "A nightmare disappearing." she stated as her eyes met with his, Nocturne having disappeared had caused few upon the Isles great confusion, though no one seemed to linger upon the fact he had gone, some assuming he had simply grown weary and left. "Betrayal." She the tilted her head ever so slightly, "And the dead walking on Valoran once more."
Evelynn placed her left hand gently upon Swain's left arm, barely restraining herself from sending a spike of pain through his body to see how his new powerful body would handle it, "Interested?" she purred once more.
Last Edit: Oct 19, 2013 6:41:26 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
Post by The Master Tactician on Oct 19, 2013 11:15:17 GMT -5
Like wildfire, the Grand General's eyes blazed at her hints of information. If this news perturbed him, no hint of his apprehension disturbed his air of utter confidence. A smirk crept up behind his helm and he leaned in, his answer a whisper of intensity, "Very." He straightened up, offered Evelynn a sculpted arm and asked her, "Shall we?"
He extended his other hand towards the winding staircase that led down to the dining hall. "Allow me to extend my hospitality."
Post by The Widowmaker on Oct 19, 2013 16:13:44 GMT -5
Evelynn felt a shiver of excitement as Swain whispered to her, she was barely able to take her eyes off his as they looked to almost ignite. Taking the arm in her own she couldn't help but feel the toned muscle hidden by what he wore, she smirked to herself as certain images crept into her mind. Even without the pain, she believed this form was FAR more interesting than the broken pain racked one he once had, "Of course." she spoke with an almost singsong tone then waited for him to lead the way.
Last Edit: Oct 19, 2013 16:14:18 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
Post by The Master Tactician on Oct 21, 2013 21:02:07 GMT -5
Down the twisting stairs they went, arm in arm, step in step. No longer did Swain limp or falter. His steps bore the undeniable purpose of a leader--and despite the nocturnal hour, he emanated energy and alertness. "I hope you've been well, madame. Troubling times we live in, non? We must endeavor to protect ourselves," He allowed himself a purposeful pause as they crossed the threshold in to the dining room. "Each."
It was dark in the ornate hall, the chandelier unlit, but the Master Tactician stood confidently and only cleared his throat before a late-night chef bustled into the room, looking bothered. His demeanor shifted instantly at the appearance of his master and the Hold's unexpected guest. He snapped to attention, respectfully averting his eyes from the Grand General's emerald orbs. "Grand General, sir." the cook sputtered. "Good morning."
"Wake your team and the dining hall service. We'll take an early breakfast." With the slightest smirk and the tilt of his head, Swain addressed the Widowmaker. "Order as you please, madame." His voice carried still the spark of electric authority. "Whatever you fancy."
Post by Alexis 'Mute' Lindser on Oct 22, 2013 17:18:35 GMT -5
Two Minutes Later, in the Servant's Quarters
Her roommate is the first to startle awake as the door opens. "We've got company," hisses Miranda, shaking Alexis' shoulder. Calm as ever, the mute nods, barely a sigh passing her lips, and prepares for what will undoubtedly be a long day.
"The General's having a very early breakfast- with Evelynn," Miranda continues, babbling as she tugs up her socks. "Why, d'you suppose-?"
At the look on Alexis' face, she stops. It's too early for this, those steely eyes reprimand her, and Miranda nods. "S-sorry, Mute."
Five Minutes Later, in the Dining Hall
The table is set, and the dishes are covered over with silver lids, to ensure that everything remains piping hot when the Grand General and his Shadow Islander guest arrive. I wonder if she's really as... clothing-challenged as her reputation indicates, Alexis muses, her hands folded behind her back and her eyes trained on the ground. Why would the General want-?
But her train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt when they enter. Hesitantly, she peers up from under her dark lashes, curious about the lack of a cane she hears. ...He's not sick anymore! Alexis can barely suppress a smile- she can even feel the energy crackling around him, bringing the hairs on her arms to a shivering stand. The maid's unexpected happiness draws her attention away from her master's guest, if only for a moment.
...blue skin, and lots of it. She keeps her eyes glued to the floor as best she can, not wanting to stare. So she really does just wear- straps of pink leather. Wow. Spiked boots, too. Hope I never get on her bad side. Sex seems to roll off the woman in near-palpable waves, leaving Alexis' mouth dry.
She manages to tear her attention away from the guest with a near-visible effort. Damn. Her hands fidget behind her back as she stands, expressionless, at the wall with the others, ready to serve.
Post by The Widowmaker on Oct 23, 2013 5:08:34 GMT -5
Evelynn walked silently arm in arm with Swain, her lips curled into a small smile as she listened to him talk. Being so close to such power, she was almost purring like a kitten, "I've been very well." she small smile turned into a knowing grin, "It's only dangerous if you play with the wrong company."
Her golden orbs locked upon the chef, suppressing a chuckle as he avoided eye contact with Swain. She then turned her attention to the large dining hall before musing aloud, "Hmm... I haven't fed in some time..." She had planned on using the cripple pain filled former form of Swain to feed herself, but that plan had been thrown out the window. The golden eyes locked upon the maid as she entered, glinting with the gaze of a predator. The Widowmaker still held Swain's arm, shifting her eyes to look up at him before whispering, "Surprise me."
Last Edit: Oct 23, 2013 5:11:21 GMT -5 by The Widowmaker
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