The Freljordians say nothing, staring towards the sound's origin point. Their bodies appear tensed, ready for battle. A trickle of sweat runs down the brow of the blonde one. A rustling sound, faint at first, but growing louder, comes from the woods. A shape moves, then another, then even more. Five human silhouettes are now visible, brandishing swords and hand-axes.
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 4, 2013 2:33:26 GMT -5
Poppy looks at the shadowed figures visible in the woods, shaking her head. Bandits never learn it seems. She lifts her shield in front of her and slams Whomper against it, talking with a highly authorative tone.
I'll give you one chance. Why don't you just lay down your weapons now? I'll let you live if you do. If not, you will see why they call me "The Iron Ambassador".
She then moves Whomper back, holding it's handle with both hands, her shield tied tightly into her wrist so it doesn't fall off . Unless the bandits have learned something new, something actually threatening, this shouldn't be much of a fight. The Freljordians no doubt had fought half their lives in the cold north, and she had been hardened by the endless battles on the Fields of Justice. The in-disciplined, barely trained bandits should have no chance to survive the fight.
A hoarse laugh, then a raspy voice comes from within the crowd of shapes, spoken as though choked with muscle.
"The rodent's going to show us why they call 'er what they call 'er, is she? Kill 'er guards, but don't hurt the Yordle too much, we can ransom 'er."
Fraya turns to her men as the shapes begin to move.
"Torches."
The younger one dashes for the rucksacks, bringing out three wooden hafts with oily-looking rags wrapped around one end. He hastily shoves all three into the fire for a moment, then tosses one each to his companions, which they catch. Fraya whips her own towards the bandits, so as to illuminate them. The men and women revealed are haggard-looking, clad in mail and leather in a way not unlike the Freljordians. A hungry, desperate look is in their eyes.
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 7, 2013 17:10:09 GMT -5
Guards? No no no you fools... these are not guards. They are Freljordians. What you would call inhabitable, is where they live every day...
Poppy looks at the bandits in the light of the torches. Mail, leather, easy to move in, protects from slashes. Weak against crushing due to the flexible nature that didn't block the force of a crushing strike. A smith's knowledge was always useful in fights.
Fraya, aim for the leather, the mail will just slide your blades away.
She suddenly rushes forward, moving faster than most would expect from a yordle in full armor, pushing the loud-mouthed bandit into a tree with the move the summoners called "Heroic Charge". She then smashes Whomper into his legs, crushing his shins and dropping him on the ground, unconscious due to the pain.
Anyone else wish to test the one he wanted to take ransom on?
She holds Whomper in a prepared position, the mace end of the hammer behind her, the end of it glowing with magical power. Whomever were to approach, would feel the full force of the Devastating Blow.
The remaining bandits appear indecisive, as though watching their comrade's body crumple into a heap may indicate that pursuing a ransom further may not be as profitable as would be preferred. One of them makes a sudden movement, either to advance or flee. Regardless of either, Fraya, moving faster than would be expected from someone clad in heavy bearskin, boiled leather, and wielding a heavy greataxe, jumps at the running bandit, and brings her axe down on his right shoulder, which carves through leather, flesh, and clavicle with the one swing. Blood sprays from his wound to the tune of his splintering shoulderblade and agonized scream as he falls to the ground. Fraya pulls her axe from the dying man and kicks him over, turning to the remaining three to speak, her face splattered with the formerly running man's gore.
"By all means, take the Yordle. I'm sure she'll be worth it."
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 10, 2013 3:56:40 GMT -5
Since I am a diplomat and prefer to fight only when needed, I'll give you one last chance. Take your wounded and leave, and I will let you live. If not... you will not see another morning.
Poppy lifts Whomper to her shoulder, walking back towards the camp while keeping an eye on the bandits over her shoulder. It would be rather bad if they decided to shoot her with an arrow or a bullet while her back was turned, and she preferred not dealing with a serious injury right now.
The bandits slowly back away, leaving their dead and unconscious comrades behind. Fraya turns to her compatriots, a disturbingly pleasant looking smirk on her helmeted face.
"Well, that wasn't very fun now, was it?"
The same expression spreads to the faces of Voll and the younger Freljordian, when suddenly the three of them dash off into the woods, after the bandits, weapons brandished and ready for killing. The sounds that come from the darkness as the three descend upon the fleeing bandits, a menagerie of shouting, screaming, the sickening sound of metal passing through flesh, would make even hardened soldier's stomachs turn. Then silence. An abrupt, chilling silence. Then, three human forms slowly move back towards the clearing, each appearing to be dragging something. Upon coming into the light cast by the fire, the dragged somethings would be revealed as human bodies.
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 13, 2013 13:38:50 GMT -5
Poppy sits down next to the fire, placing Whomper into her lap. She seems to stare into the fire thoughtfully, yet is aware as the trio returns.
Unnecessary violence... that will not help your cause with the Mayor. He is quite a peaceful man. Same goes for me. At least I wish you will give them a proper burial... despite their actions, they deserve that much.
She keeps her eyes on the fire, sighing and lowering her shoulders a bit, letting herself relax a bit now that the bandits were gone. These Freljordians were starting to seem less and less like what Bandle stands for, and for Poppy, that meant she felt less and less obliged to help their cause when they reached Bandle City.
I wish you can control yourself more in the future. I do not exactly like witnessing such acts. Who knows, they might've simply been doing it to feed their families. Might've not been of choice, but of necessity.
She glances to the woods, remembering the one that was still there unconscious. He would probably never walk properly again, but he was still alive, and the wounds she had dealt to him were not lethal. Now she just wished that her companions forgot about him, so he could get away when he came back to his senses. She doubted that he would be as stupid after the last fight as to try and fight again.
It may be common in the Freljord to be this ruthless... but neither myself, nor Bandle City shares those views. We prefer peaceful methods... and if we give the bandits a chance to leave, they will have a chance to leave, not to be chased down and butchered. Understood?
Fraya looks at Poppy as her companions pick at the bodies for armour, weapons, and other equipment, one of them muttering something about wasting meat.
"It was not necessary to kill them until you told them that we were Freljordian. What if we had let them go? What if they had told someone that there were Freljordians this far south? What if that sort of talk reached Sejauni's ears? And, pray tell, what if she learned that I was absent from my village? I refuse to risk the lives of my family and my people for the sake of degenerates such as those. I thought I made it clear how much is at stake."
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 16, 2013 18:08:57 GMT -5
Sejuani is a fool anyway... war is not the solution. "Violence to end violence", as I've heard perhaps the only sensible Noxian state a few times. The leader of the Winter's Claw sees nothing but her own stubborn ways. While sometimes war is unavoidable and peaceful negotiations fail... war is not the answer to the Freljord's unification.
Poppy continues looking into the flames, her mind wondering a bit into the past. The time before she had to deal with diplomacy, with combat, with war. When she was merely an apprentice to her father, working the forge to merely create what others would use to defend themselves. She missed those days often...
Father... why did we accept that commission... She quietly mumbles to herself.
She sighs and holds one of her gauntlets next to the fire, the flames licking the metallic plates and slowly heating up the leather pads inside. While for most the heat would be unbearable, to her it was comfortable. Reminded her of home, of happier times. The forge in her home always was warm and welcoming. It only awaited for work to be done, for metal to heat, and nothing more. She slowly turns to look at Fraya, her gaze determined and serious, perhaps even more so than usual.
Your case to Bandle City is slowly turning less appealing. Bandle City does not exactly like the Winter's claw and their methods... your brutality with the bandits further makes you differ from Bandle City's views.
We yordles are peaceful, while your village follows a warmonger. Mayor Jadefellow, while a compassionate and wise man, most likely will not accept your request. Would take too much time... and too much of Bandle City's resources. Our numbers aren't as great as those of the human nations...
"Know that you'd be condemning an entire culture to annihilation. Craftsmen, warriors, artists, mothers, fathers, children. When the void creatures are on our doorstep again, their blood is on your hands same as those cursed abominations. "
Fraya takes a piece of sealskin from a pouch in her clothing, and begins wiping the gore from her axe's blades, which shine, slick with blood, in the firelight. She seems frustrated.
"If you're so convinced that we're nothing more than bloodthirsty savages, then what are you still doing here? Leave, if you must. We can move more quickly without you. Stay or leave, make your choice, and make it fast."
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 22, 2013 14:02:08 GMT -5
I know all about consequences of one's actions... I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Do you know what I have been through? It may be simple for you northern folks, but for us yordles, losing one's family is devastating. One yordle who was captured by Noxians, and his companions slain, went insane from isolation and grief, and is now a strong magician, who only wishes ruin to his own kind.
Poppy looks at Whomper, placing it next to the flames of the campfire. No doubt living in the cold north had made it so most had suffered through losing someone close to them, but yordles were different beings from humans. They were more social, being alone was dangerous for the psyche, they were a rather emotional people.
Besides, if I thought you to be bloodthirsty savages, you would never have made it out of Demacian borders. They are quite strict about justice, about what one is allowed to do. They follow a strict code devoted to Justice, and thirst for blood is against their beliefs.
The hammer begins to glow close to the fire, and Poppy lifts it from the flames. She holds it against her palm, the gauntlet protecting her hand. She stands up and walks to where one of the dead bandits were still, pulling their weapon to her and placing it against a rock. She swings Whomper against it, bending the blade and breaking the stone.
Not to mention more trained soldiers than there most likely is people in the Freljord. But remember, before you start to talk about condemning someone to death, I know it all too well. I had to leave my father behind, to fight alone against trained assassins. I saw them butcher him, I know all too well the meaning of loss...
However, I have learned much during my time in the Golden City. There are times when sacrifices must be made... times when you must decline someone's cry for aid for a greater good. Despite her foolish views, the leader of the Winter's Claw is not completely stupid. She could use what Bandle City would give to cause wanton destruction to the Avarosan, to kill innocent people who wish only peace. Not everyone's life can be spared... and sometimes, sparing someone's life only causes more death.
So do not try and convince me with words about the death of children, when the one who your tribe follows kills innocent women and children for believing in peace instead of war.
She the sits down, placing Whomper next to her and looks at the blade that her strike bent. Despite it's haggard condition, the steel was of surprisingly high quality. The blade was tempered well, making it bend instead of shatter when hit by Whomper.. The edge was jagged, more due to wear than design, but it made the wounds the blade caused more serious, shredding skin and flesh in a way that caused heavy bleeding and would not heal easily. No doubt the filth that had gathered on the edge also caused infections in the wounds, making a strike from the blade way more dangerous than would be expected if not cleaned before being bandaged. Despite it's wear, the blade seemed of higher quality than to be expected of mere bandits. Unusual... and perhaps foreboding.
Fraya slings her axe across her back, turning to her men.
"We're going to keep moving, the ambassador seems to be having second thoughts. Pack up our things, leave hers. She can catch up if she changes her mind."
She turns back to Poppy, the half of her face that is visible largely expressionless.
"Our presence here never happened. You met no Freljordians at the embassy. Is that understood?"
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Nov 26, 2013 14:44:15 GMT -5
Quite a jump to conclusions it seems... if you wish to leave, I will not stop you. But, despite what I may say, Bandle City is still just about the only place that would aid you. Piltover's resources are tied, Demacia is still recovering, Ionia is still to an extent recovering from Noxus's invasion, Noxus has only wanted to "pacify" the Freljord before by military force, Bilgewater cares only for itself, Zaun would use you for test subjects... you get my point?
Poppy merely looks at the blade she had bent, placing her free hand on the blade while the other is on the hilt, bending it by mere physical strength back to a somewhat straight line. She had no rush, no need to go anywhere. She knew exactly how long it would take her to get to Bandle City, and what was on the way. She knew places that she could re-supply at, and where to move through to avoid trouble. She had gone through this path more times than she could count within the time she had spent as an Ambassador.
And do tell me, why would I cover for you? I have sworn to serve Bandle City, and lying to my kind and my mayor about what has happened as of recent would both work against my loyalties to my home, and to my work as a liaison between Bandle City and Demacia, as you visited the Embassy within Demacia. If you wish me to lie about your presence at the Embassy... it requires more than your worries about Sejuani finding out. After all... Bandle City has next to no contact to the Freljord. We live on the other side of this world... cut off from everyone except the League, and the states of Demacia and Piltover. If Sejuani finds out... it is not through our kind.
She glanced over to Fraya, her gaze as serious and steeled as ever. Not much made her even flinch these days, and her thoughts were most often focused on either her work, or her father and the last surviving assassin out of those who took his life. She pondered her options in case the Freljordians were to go to extremes to keep their presence secret. They probably were unaware of the power within Whomper, and with what the weapon had bestowed upon her armor. She could protect herself from two of the three, and most likely dispatch them before the protection wore off. She had fought the most skilled assassins and magicians the world had seen, the most stalwart warriors and the fiercest berserkers. She had learned much from her experiences within the Fields of Justice, and she doubted that these three unknown Freljordians had a fraction of her experience and expertise, let alone the magical aid of a powerful, enchanted artifact.
You can make whatever choice you wish. You are free to leave if that is what seems wisest to you, you are free to tag along and see what choice Mayor Jadefellow makes. No matter what choice you make, I will respect it and honor it. Everyone does what they see to be the wisest. Only ones I feel any malice towards these days... are those who took my father from me... and those who would without second thought employ those honorless bastards.
Make your choice.
Whomper begins to glow, slightly reinforcing the defensive enchants within her armor, causing it to glow as well. Poppy sticks the slightly bent bandit blade into the ground and stands up, holding Whomper against her shoulder and her shield against her side. She hoped that the Freljordians weren't as filled with as little reason and as much brutality as the one their tribe followed.
"I don't like your city, I don't like your attitude, and I don't like you, but the decision is not mine to make. I am honour bound to see this mission through. I have no intention of faltering, wavering, or stopping. Only death will keep me from reaching Bandle. If we're going, we go now before we have to do more killing."
Fraya heaves a rucksack onto her shoulder as her men finish with the tents.
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