((Maybe dropping in to lay down the Void's law soon. Recap of the fights that are going on right now? I know Cho'Gath got Chaos Dunked, and then the knight appeared on his minotaur triceratops and fights with Pantheon, but what happens after that?
Plus I heard something about mountains, should I just appear there or....??))
((For the fights, the Grey Knight himself is fighting J4 and Xin, with Heimerdinger providing support and Soraka attempting to join the fray as well. Then there's the Grey Knight's beast, who is facing Pantheon, myself, and possibly Ahri.))
"There's only one thing that I know for sure is true: 'Truth is relative.'" -Jon
"What side you're on isn't of concern to me. What is of concern is that you're hurt, and I need to treat you for it." -Jon
"Contrary to what some believe, violence does not solve everything. In fact, it solves nothing." -Jon
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 24, 2013 22:12:22 GMT -5
(( Malzahar, I would prefer to plot with you on potential future engagements than have you appear in this one. This is merely a skirmish. Save the big guns. ;] ))
Post by The Swift Scout on Jan 24, 2013 22:37:34 GMT -5
((Psst. Swain. Do you think we could talk with Ez a little about this... artifact that Rumble and I found a while back? According to Ezreal it "allows us to view ancient Icathian heiroglyphics" or something. Perhaps it could be used as a tool in the plot, as well as a way to bring more champions into future engagements?))
((Psst. Swain. Do you think we could talk with Ez a little about this... artifact that Rumble and I found a while back? According to Ezreal it "allows us to view ancient Icathian heiroglyphics" or something. :P Perhaps it could be used as a tool in the plot, as well as a way to bring more champions into future engagements?))
Seeing the the Pridestalker suddenly change direction, camouflaging into the shifting sands, headed right towards him! Knowing that the full battle has yet to come, and the void army was still gathering behind him in the purple mist, Kog'Maw had decided to retreat... for now.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 25, 2013 14:01:54 GMT -5
Power crackled around the phoenix as an unnatural purple lightning struck out around her to bar her entry to the city. As she slowed, the storms collided behind her, lightning and ice fizzling whilst titanic winds scattered wisps of clouds, both real and malign across the desert. Dazed and unsteady, the phoenix lights upon a twisted, blackened spire of the Icathian ruins.
With a shake of her head to clear her vision, she sees the void army on the march. Rank upon rank march on continuously through a tear in the fabric of the world. Despite the corruption and death on the other side of the portal, the cold wind that poured from it was unmistakable. The void truly was invading the Freljord which she had sworn to defend.
Following the column of void soldiers marching across the desert sands, Anivia finds herself staring into the very worst of her waking nightmares. Below her, the elements of the world screamed in protest. Through the shimmering purple outline of a portal was the heart of the void itself: the absolute antithesis of Anivia’s people.
She could do nothing but watch as Cho’Gath and his minions retreated into the Freljord; To engage so many would be suicide. From the top of her spire, she glares down on the Terror of the Void, an uncharacteristic hatred burning in her eyes until both portals closed completely. A warm wind blew across the desert as the corruption of the void faded from the land, a first breath of freedom after two full years of torment. Anivia had little power over these desert lands, but could at the very least heal the barrier between worlds. Alone against the void, she would inevitably fail.
Turning back toward the battleground, she finally became aware of the new foe that had appeared. With a leap she takes off again, intent on preventing any further deaths in this fight.
Post by The Swift Scout on Jan 25, 2013 17:22:54 GMT -5
Teemo watched in steeled horror at the armies of voidlings moving into their respective portals below him. He'd managed to find a good, covered outlook with which he could take position in and observe. When the last portal closed, the scout hopped up from his spot and quickly ran back the way he came to return to the party.
Feeling the power surge within him and rippling through his spirit, igniting him into an ascended form of himself, the bloodlust that accompanied him when slaying massive beasts overcame him sending him soaring towards the reaver that was battling Soraka. He had at least enough awareness to acknowledge that Jon and Pantheon were more than capable enough to handle the warrior's mount alone. At least he hoped so.
Slamming his lance into the ground, a shockwave both fusing and hardening the sands around them erupted, launching an impossibly high wall between the others and him, locking himself alone with the grey knight in a circular barrier, an expression of steeled determination on his face as the spectral forms of his ancestors mirrored his movements alongside him. Throwing his flag at the creature, the spirits around him all threw one of their own at the warrior, seeking to impale and hold some part of him to the sands.
"I am the direct descendant of the Lightshield Bloodline. I am the peak of thousands of years of survival, the crux of humanity's finest, flying higher than all others of Demacia ever have or ever will. What are you but some pathetic creature crawling from the depths of nightmares, not even worthy of my scorn. And I, as well as my line, will NOT. DIE. HERE." He spoke quietly at first, his voice gradually rising, the ghosts beside him mirroring his voice in their own, gradually drowning out all other sound in the makeshift arena.
The ground shook beneath him and soon the Knight found himself facing a warrior clad in golden armor. He recognized the influential being he was fighting, he was not ignorant to the petty squabbling of these nobles nor was he ignorant to how esteemed certain bloodlines were supposed to be. They would all find equality beneath the crushing force of the Void. The first flag did not find its mark, the Knight nimbly moved out of the way. But found himself pierce through the right leg by the spectral flag, then another through his arm on the opposite side.
After the Prince spoke, he promptly pulled himself free, till skewered by the spectral flags. He was met with resistance but seemed more than capable of fighting yet. His weapons were gripped and began to emit an unholy aura, a hint of things to come. That suffocation that had afflicted Pantheon was now upon Jarvan. His sights set upon him.
“All the better Lightshield. Your death with be a sign, one that screams across the land that none will withstand us.” [/Size]
Heimerdinger couldn't do much with his current equipment and remaining ammunition, do he decided to throw the 2 concussive grenades he had left towards the grey knight and then spent his last rounds of ammo with suppressing fire, attempting to grant Jarvan an advantage over it.
They were lobbed over the wall and more or less hit their mark. A bright flash covered the immediate area where the grenade exploded. The Knight recoiled back only slightly and stopped in his tracks as he regained his composure from the surprise attack. Heimerdinger’s effort was not in vain and certainly gave Jarvan an advantage he would be wise to use. [/Size]
All that was going through Jon's mind was the thrill of the unknown, which would be summarized in his response:
"HA! HA! I HAVE NO IDEA!!!!"
With that, he turned off the inhibitor system on his medigun, overriding the cap on the amount of power that would be put into the Ubercharge, and from there, flipped the activation switch.
What would come out no one could see, for a brief moment, the whole area surrounding Jon and Pantheon flashed a blinding white. At it's end, the effects of the super Ubercharge could be seen, and what a sight it was to behold...
Pantheon didn't just receive power... he was power. Everything about him glowed a glistening and awesome orange, his eyes a burning yellow that seemed to be able to pierce any veil. Pure energy crackled along his exterior, and his weapon now had that of a blinding whitish-yellow glow, almost as if the elements had all forged into it, fire, water, and lightning all combining for a devastating armament. All of it, everything about him... now seemed to reach a power of immeasurable level, almost uncontrollable.
If it was possible to demonstrate a granting of real, near infinite power, to create a living god, this was it.
And yet, even this wasn't the true power cap, for his Options again, did not engage their beams. Perhaps it might be too much for anyone to handle if the beams were all combined...
So he was intent on becoming a pest. The Targon Warrior’s wounds were healing and his shield was unharmed. The gas had dispersed about, still lingering but that no longer seemed to be having an effect upon him. The beast let out a vicious roar before shifting and striking Pantheon with its arm. The gesture would be like swatting a fly. A thick limb was reeled back and then swung at the Targon warrior with enough force to level a mighty oak tree.
Its intent was less focused on harming him as it was to swat him a distance away.[/Size]
“Accusation that silences and deafens.” “Deeds that leave lasting wounds and stain the soul.”
"You will not withstand us?" The Prince replied in a biting tone, his voice solemn and cold fury, the murmuring echoes of his ancestors all around him, mirroring his stance. "You are alone, Knight. But I am not." The voices stormed out, peppered with disdain and ardor. The Prince coldly gazed at the Knight, sizing him up. His spectral mirrors fanned out around the edges of the wall, surrounding the Knight as he spoke, still piercing through him with their eyes in iron judgement.
As the unholy miasma began to emanate from the Knight's form, Jarvan would feel his flesh crawl, his body deteriorating rapidly under the onslaught of the vile corruption. His breath hitched, his heart and lungs slowly dying out. Yet he felt no fear. Death is inevitable; one can only avoid defeat. Every warrior was meant to die, and there was no greater death but that in striking your enemy down with your last breath. That single lesson had been hammered into his head since boyhood, the national anthem of his glorious city thundering in his mind.
"DEMACIA. NOW AND FOREVER." He roared, summoning the last strength he could muster, rushing at the Knight's form, leaping with one sole goal. As the Inventor's grenades went out, momentarily blinding them both, the Prince raised his lance seeking out his target as the spectral copies mirroring him all sought to eliminate this threat to their bloodline's world, converging on the Knight's monstrous form as one.
Last Edit: Jan 25, 2013 19:20:52 GMT -5 by Deleted
Shen had seen all that happened, the Knight and his monstrous beast appearing on the battlefield, as the others gone off to battle him. He should get in there too, and help him. Jarvan's will may help him withstand most odds, but this was the Void.
He began running towards the sand hill that Jarvan had created. It was nothing but a mere obstacle in the way of his target. However, he too began to get the feeling of his lungs losing air in his chest when he got closer to the Knight, but he had to get Jarvan. With a leap, he latched onto the wall of his cataclysm, and with one strong pull, he lifted himself over. He pulls out his blades, as he tosses out two vorpal blades at the Knight.
Power. Pure, unaltered power. It passed through all of his being, as if it flowed through his blood. He was no longer Pantheon, the man, the Artisan of War. He was the God of War, incarnated in human form. All before him were naught but inferior mortals, waiting to be crushed beneath him. One of these mortal beings in particular drew his attention. The mount of the Grey Knight, no more intimidating to him now than it was before. It would be the first to fall in his path.
The beast swung a limb at him, trying to swat him away. Dodging the attack would be a simple matter. Pantheon kicked himself off the ground, coming up above the limb, and flying straight toward the beast. His spear, no longer that of Zeonia, but that of the God of War, lead the way, headed straight for the beast's head. Were it to strike, it would be as if a bolt of lightning struck the beast, not a spear.
Seeing Anivia arrive to the current battle, Soraka waves her arms in the air trying to flag her down. Running over the sands to meet her half way.
"Anivia! Can you give me lift? I can't get over this wall. The prince is inside with that monstrosity!"
She then points over the massive sand wall the prince erected. Her face filled with worry.
The battlefield had split in two, both the warrior and his mount sewing chaos across the party that entire legions of voidlings were unable to create. A beam of empowering energy was linked between the medic and Pantheon, while Vera's purple energy flowed in a link to the a creature Anivia had never seen before. It waved at her, then called her name in the voice of the Starchild. Her beauty drew Anivia's attention from the horrors of the battlefield. With a nod, she swept down to meet Soraka's outstretched arms.
They would have to act quickly: as Anivia clutched the Starchild's wrists in her talon, they would instantly numb from the cold. Each beat of Anivia's wings sent waves of frigid air to sap the strength from Soraka's body.
Upon cresting the rim of Jarvan's crater, the battle below them unfolded. Jarvan stood in a suffocating malaise, the flesh nearly melting from his bones, yet continued to fight on with a small army spectral doppelgangers around him. I unison, they raised their arms to stab the void creature as one. Unable to fight in such closed quarters, Anivia released Soraka, then lighted upon the sandy ring to gain her bearings in the battle.
Post by The Starchild on Jan 27, 2013 17:45:16 GMT -5
As Anivia's talons wrapped around the Starchild's wrist, the cold was felt immediately. As Anivia's powerful wings flapped a frigid blast of air hit the Starchild, causing goosebumps to rise. After rising above the sand wall, Soraka felt herself drop. She tried to land as gracefully as possible, which resulted in her landing on her feet then rolling forward a few times. She coughs up sand and brings herself back to her feet. She was horrified as she saw Jarvan fighting, seemingly close to death. She raises her hands to send the prince the most powerful heal she could manage. Her palms glow with brilliant purple light, and after it collects for a few seconds, it then shoots out in one beautiful beam. It hits Jarvan, seeming to rejuvenate him.
Last Edit: Jan 27, 2013 17:46:41 GMT -5 by The Starchild
The cruelty of one will not blind me of the suffering of many.
Post by Dungeon Master on Jan 27, 2013 18:51:07 GMT -5
From her vantage point atop the dune, Vera could see the two groups of the party struggling against their assailants. She knit her brows, her expression one of grim determination. They would drive the void back this day. Derrick would not have died in vain. She lifted her hands to the skies, began to chant, her robe billowing in the static field around her.
A low hum issued from the summoner's body as the energy field around her began to glow brighter, expand. She re-trained her energy beams upon the battlefield, expanding the auras they fed until they engulfed both camps of champions. She cried out, perhaps in agony, as the power surged through her. While within these fields, those Vera counts as allies feel the boons of the supporter's power; those she counts as enemies feel something akin to nausea wash over them.
In the back of her mind, Vera desperately hoped that her powers combined with Jon's medigun would not be too much for the Artisan's body...
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Perhaps it could be used as a tool in the plot, as well as a way to bring more champions into future engagements?))
