The outer slums of Noxus were in something of a tizzy, an unusual state ever since the horrid Mordekaiser had taken to stalking the veritable hive of the lower classes. An active panic had gripped an area of the slum, but only along a rough swathe going from West to East. Overturned carts, smashed open stalls, and still dazed citizens marked this swathe's boundaries, while a close listen to the occasional gibbering could hint at the source of the chaos: a hulking, scaly beast had come barreling down the man road, casually swatting aside civilians and implements that stood in its path. Though their exposure to it had been brief, passerby would describe it having a wild, animal fury to it, a total disregard for anything and everything unfortunate enough to have been in its way. Only long after it had vaulted over a guardhouse and over Noxus' outer wall did some semblance of calm return. Perhaps it had just been some manner of beast that Warwick had been stalking, maybe it was a new attraction set up for one of Draven's major events. It may have just been the relief that nobody had been seriously injured in the creature's appearance, or comfort taken in the summary appearance of guardsmen, but no civilian had taken to mind what became of the creature after its escape. By extension, none glimpsed the vast form just underneath the surface of the moat, and nobody thought it entirely odd that a sizable grate at the base of Noxus' central mountain had vanished from its position. Certainly nobody heard the gravelly tones of muttered curses from some unseen entity lurking through the sewer network of the mountain... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- After a none too easy climb and more than enough squeezing and cramping for several of his lifetimes, Renekton roughly smashed open another grate near the peak of Noxus' command tier. The crocodilian demigod felt entirely dissatisfied with this arrangement, but recognized that it was necessary. Under normal circumstances, he would not hesitate to test his might against the greatest Noxus could offer. At present, however, he was without his traditional suit of armor, and he felt incomplete without the familiar weight of his weapon in his claws, particularly in Noxus of all places. He had seen enough of their culture on the Fields and heard enough from his jailers to understand that they were a rather xenophobic people. He would do well to be on his guard.
Raising his head into the air, Renekton drew in a long breath. Even though Swain had visited him in a spectral form, Renekton's prior occupation's perks still held to him. The dark and sinister nature of Swain was very distinct, and it was not like Renekton to forget such a black soul. This alone would allow him to navigate to the heart of High Command, though he highly doubted that his presence in the castle would be accepted gracefully. With a derisive snort, the demigod set off at a quick pace through the fortress.
Barely a minute had passed before Renekton found himself set upon by a number of oddly clad warriors. They stood markedly taller than others of their kind, their visages shrouded in menacing four-eyed masks bristling with blades. Menacing to humans, perhaps, but to Renekton it symbolized that they were somewhat less underwhelming. Judging by their near instant drawing of weapons upon seeing the monstrosity that had somehow infiltrated their lord's castle, Renekton was not welcome; that they formed a wall of bladed covered shields was only further proof. Giving a mighty bellow of defiance, Renekton barreled forward towards the squad, dropping to all fours like the savage beast he so resembled. To his surprise, the hulking warriors gave considerable resistance to his charge, but he managed to break through their defense with a second blow.
Another squad of warriors immediately set upon him with their swords, surprising him yet again when they actually managed to scratch his scales. Roaring with fury, Renekton lashed out with his claws and succeeded in tearing through the armor of those immediately in front of him. A titanic haymaker saw scatter like nine-pins, survival hardly guaranteed given his power.
A wrenching pain shook Renekton's battle hardened focus; a glance back showed him that one of the whelps assaulting him had had the nerve to drive a halberd through his exposed tail in attempt to pin him. With a tug, Renekton had pulled his tail and the offending guardsman closer to him; another pair of deft motions near simultaneously armed and disarmed Renekton. Not one, but two guardsmen staggered back, the offending halberd skewering them both. Giving another deafening roar, Renekton surged forward and cannoned through the remaining guards, of which there were plenty to go around. He had no time to deal with this rabble
He could smell the General's presence was close, but from the sounds of things, additional guards were on the way to apprehend Renekton. Closer...closer...there! Turning a quick corner, Renekton pulled back an arm before smiting the immense double doors blocking his passage and charged inside. The Grand General would have quite a lot to answer for, oh yes indeed...
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 20, 2013 16:39:10 GMT -5
The doors opened up into a massive hall, its ceiling stretching up for miles, its walls lined with twisted stairs. The General stood, clad in his usual military garb, leaning on his cane, at the foot of the nearest staircase. He appeared to have just descended. He lifted his chin, regarding the scene as he took a crooked step forward.
"Stop," came his command. It was not particularly loud, but it rang out through the fortress, the authority behind it unmistakable. The guards stopped in their tracks: froze immediately, almost as though affected by some sorcery.
The reptilian demigod heaving with rage in the doorway, the fallen men in its wake, the armed Raedsel in hot pursuit--none of this seemed to give the general any pause. He sunk his cane into the Ionian rug and took another step towards Renekton. "Quite the entrance," he said, unsmiling. "I trust your journey went smoothly." The guards remained frozen in place; even those who lay wounded on the floor had gone quiet.
Though he devoutly refused to show it, Swain's brief display impressed Renekton to a degree he had difficulty remembering experiencing before. With but a single word, he had forged order from chaos. Even Nasus might have had difficulty doing so, even on their own world. As his breathing steadied with every heavy step further into the chamber, Renekton regarded Swain with a gristly crunch of his neck.
"I have had worse journeys," Renekton grunted after a time. At the very least, he was not being attacked by the mob of relentless warriors. Their stalwart defense of their leader was worthy, he supposed. There was something to be admired in Noxus, perhaps; it reminded him a fair amount of his comrades on his homeworld.
"It would appear that I was...unexpected," the demigod grumbled, casting a glower back at the assembled men. "Though your men make for worthy doormats. I trust that this will not affect our arrangement, hm?"
Then, out of more than a little spite towards those who had dared to impede his progress through the fortress, Renekton sank to one knee in front of Swain, pressing a clasped fist against his opposite shoulder in a sign of loyalty. It somewhat grated against his nerve to do so, but it was necessary. It would not do to strain the deal that had been made with the scheming General, particularly in front of his own men. Until the time was called for, Renekton was consigned to acting his part: 'the General's Pet.'
Shaco stood outside the gates of The Noxian High Command, wincing as he stepped over body after body of Noxus soldiers. Renekton sure had a way of introducing himself to the public. He dared not venture further, if he was caught snooping about High Command, he would most likely be prosecuted, and the deal with Leblanc would be over, as well as his life. Shaco didn't know exactly what would happen if he failed his challenges, but he expected the chopping block. After all, if Noxus learned anything from Darius, it was execute first, ask questions later.
The Jester thought back to Leblanc's offer. What does Noxus have to hide... Shaco wondered, pushing yet another Noxian guard's body away from him with a swift kick. The Institute would surely find out about the crocodile's escape. However, they would probably believe the escape to be his own effort. If word got out that a Noxian helped free a dangerous champion, the Institute and every other city state would be on their doorstep, demanding answers, or war. Sure, Noxus did have a formidable military force, but they wouldn't stand a chance against Demacia, Ionia, Bandle City, Frelijord, and the Institute. Heck, Piltover, Zaun, and even Bilgewater might get into the Noxian stomping party.
There has to be something more to this, though... Shaco thought. Shaco suspected Noxus was planning something that would change the fate of Valoran for decades to come. Usually, The Jester didn't become involved in politics or wars. However, if Noxus was planning to take over, Shaco did not want to be on the receiving end of that blade.
Shaco noticed a civilian was standing by the scene, staring at him like he was from the Void. Shaco glanced at him, then sighed. Might as well play along with Leblanc's little game. he thought. Shaco approached the man. "D...did.....did you do this?" The civilian stuttered. Shaco paused for a moment. "Relax good sir. I didn't do this." Shaco reassured him, then slowly walked towards him and whispered in his ear."A crocodile did this. His name is Renekton."
A few minutes after Shaco left the scene, the pile of soldiers still remained at the gates. If one was to count the amount of bodies that were lying there before and after Shaco was present, they would find an additional body. However, there was a stark difference between the new body and the others.
The new body's blood was fresh.
Last Edit: Jan 20, 2013 17:52:59 GMT -5 by Deleted
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 20, 2013 18:04:15 GMT -5
"It will not," Swain answered simply. His crimson gaze wandered over Renekton's compliant form. Even kneeling, the hulking crocodilian body of his new champion was impressive--easily three times the general's own mass--but power was not always a matter of physicality. "Subtlety is often preferred in the execution of such controversial plots."
He limped around the demigod, surveying its massive form. The bird upon his shoulder echoed his gaze, folding her wings in silence, her six glowing eyes never abandoning their study. Upon coming full circle, the general seemed pleased with his prize and bid Renekton rise. As though on queue, several medic-guardsmen entered the hall, saluted their general in turn. "Hurry and clean up this mess," Swain barked with a wave of his gnarled hand, then he returned his attention to the butcher.
"Come," he commanded, turning. He shuffled down the cavernous hall, step, step, cane. The twisted paths of Darkbourne Hold led down through another pair of double doors, into candlelit room containing a single executive table. Upon this table sat a scroll, a dry pen and an ink well. "Sit." The general gestured to a high-backed chair nearby the lone document.
Renekton felt satisfied once the proceedings were dealt with, particularly that the arrangement had not been altered. He was not in the mood to develop contingency plans, especially now that he was comfortably in among his element. Of all the city-states to offer him some manner of contract, Noxus easily trumped the rest. A nation of warriors who almost religiously followed the path to strength and glory was one that Renekton could get used to being a part of.
With the Grand General's guardsmen instilled with a sufficient degree of awe at the Butcher's entrance, Renekton set off after the General with something of a smirk on his cruel face. En route to the inner hold though, he could not shake the feeling that the odd raven accompanying Swain was staring at him. Renekton swiftly made a mental note to devour it whole if Noxus sufficiently displeased him in the near future, but now was hardly the time for such thoughts. He was still exposed, unarmed, and very much alone in the very heart of one of Runeterra's mightiest nations; best to keep on his best behavior.
"Your machinations surprise me, General," Renekton growled as he seated himself in the large chair Swain had indicated, never taking his blood-red gaze away from the General. "Though I suppose you have spent this past time since our last discussion in further planning. What devices would Noxus have the chosen son of the deserts partake in, hmm?"
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 20, 2013 18:58:30 GMT -5
Swain did not respond immediately, instead glancing over the parchment that lay on the table before Renekton. He leaned heavily on his cane, narrowing his eyes before clarifying, "I am always planning, butcher." The great bird upon his shoulder let out a few clucks of concurrence, shifting as her master re-positioned himself, her eyes ever-fixed on the demigod.
The general tapped the unfurled scroll with a gnarled finger. "Your contract, as discussed." The specifications upon the page, printed in an austere hand, read in accordance with the collaborators' previous exchange: Renekton would be provided with suitable weapons and armor, so long as he remained in good standing with the Noxian military. He would answer to the Grand General, deploying where he was bid and defending Noxus against her threats. The Curator would be his when the time was right. And when Noxus had established her hold over Valoran, he would be granted a portal to his homeland.
At the bottom of the page was a signature line, marked with a calligraphic black ink rose. "Sign," said Swain. "You'll lay low for a while--time enough that your journey to my lands could have been made on foot. I trust that no one terribly important saw you traipsing through the city." His eyes flashed, reflecting the light of the single candle upon the table.
Shaco strolled past the ever-popular bakery, stopping to get a whiff of fresh baked pastries. He was about to continue towards the gates of the city when he saw something investing inside the bakery. A reporter of some sort was scrawling something down on a sheet of paper. He was sitting down at one of the tables, a chocolate chip muffin in one hand and a pen in the other.
However, this wasn't what made Shaco stop. He wasn't hungry for any sort of pastries, as he was on a diet. He had caught a glimpse of the paper he was writing on. He couldn't read the rest of the writing, as it was very tiny, but one word, written bigger than the rest, stuck out.
Renekton.
Shaco couldn't lose The Deceiver's challenge this early. He would need to gain her trust, and then stab her in the back. Literally or metaphorically. Shaco debated what to do, then came up with an idea.
The Jester strolled into the bakery, and confront the reporter. "Hello there, son. What are you writing about?" Shaco asked curiously. The young reported looked up at Shaco, adjusting his spectacles. "Oh, um...just a little story for the Institute's paper. You know how demanding they are..." the reporter quickly replied, then returned to writing the story.
Shaco leaned in a little closer. "Renekton, huh?" Shaco said, reading the title for a second time. "What has he gotten in to, huh?" The reporter looked up at Shaco again, then began whispering in his ear. "I shouldn't be telling you this...but Renekton has apparently escaped from his cell. Also, I managed to get a picture of him...talking to Swain!"
The Jester's eyes widened. His suspicions were confirmed. Somehow, the reporter had found out Renekton being released. How he managed to do that was irrelevant. Shaco needed to kill the reporter, or else he would end up dead.
Shaco looked around the bakery. He couldn't kill the reporter here, he'd need to back him into an alleyway, and then finish him. "Um, kid, do you mind if we take a walk and discuss this?" Shaco asked, gesturing to the door.
"Why not? I could find another story to report! And it might be even more important than Renekton!" The reporter exclaimed, getting out of his seat. "Follow me!" The Jester walked out of the bakery, and began to make his way to the nearest alleyway that would be out of plain sight.
The reporter had to jog to catch up to him. "So, um...tell me more about what you saw." Shaco said, continuing to walk through the bustling streets of the city. "Well, I was exploring Darkbourne Hold after getting a press pass there, and I stum-" Shaco interrupted the reporter, grabbing him, and slamming him on the dark alleyway's wall.
"I really don't want to do this..." Shaco whispered menacingly. "I truly don't. You seemed like such a nice person." The reporter began to speak, but Shaco put his hand over the young man's mouth silencing him. His eyes grew wide with fear. "I regret to inform you that you know too much." Shaco mused, then slit the reporter's throat.
Shaco burned the pile of papers the reporter was holding in his cold, dead hands. Tis is going to be tougher than I expected Shaco thought, as he hid the reporter's body under a pile of litter in the alley. As Shaco walked out of the alleyway, he paused, then turned back to pick up the reporter's muffin. Passerby would then see Shaco stroll out of the alley, taking a bite out of the muffin.
His diet could wait.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2013 23:37:29 GMT -5 by Deleted
Leaning in a ways over the table, Renekton perused the proffered contract with a hint of interest. 'Good standing with Noxus' military' probably meant that he would be allowed to devour a very limited amount of footmen or war-bred animals for sustenance, if any. That there would be no authority to answer to but Swain's was fitting, certainly, but there was no telling what manner of schemes the General would involve him in. And a passage to return home was always a desirable reward, such that his glorious purpose might be fulfilled. There would certainly be many trials between the acceptance of this contract and his return home, but Renekton was reassured by the idea that if things went South, Swain was still entirely edible. The same reassurance was needed twice over when Swain informed him of the need to lay low.
"None but the rabble," the demigod reckoned, barely giving a second thought to his charge through Noxus. More consideration ensued as the Butcher toyed with the possibilities of this proposal.
"...very well," Renekton replied after sweeping over the contract a second time, keeping one claw fishing around in his mouth for something or another. "I shall bide my time at present, become acquainted with my newfound...allies. Armaments for myself shall be needed as well, yes..." By this time, Renekton had apparently retrieved what he was searching for in the back of his gullet: a scrap of flesh from an unfortunate guardsmen met earlier. Grinding it between his claws, Renekton lowered a single digit to the paper and set about drawing an elaborate series of glyphs. As of that moment, the Butcher of the Sands was officially Noxian.
Post by The Master Tactician on Jan 20, 2013 21:37:53 GMT -5
The moment his claw left the parchment, the ornate rose upon the signature line began to glow purple, to twist and writhe, to lift from the paper and wrap ethereal tendrils around the butcher's monstrous hand. It constricted briefly, leaving the sensation of searing cold where it made contact with his flesh. Then, as quickly as it had strangled his wrist, it vanished. The scroll snapped upwards of its own accord into the general's hand.
"Good then," said Swain. "We'll have you fitted and geared tomorrow morning. Until then, you are dismissed. My maid will show you to your quarters." No sooner had these words fallen from his lips that a delicate knock came at the door. "Enter," the general commanded.
The room lit up as the door was opened with a creak. On the threshold stood a girl, clad in the sensible black uniform of a state-owned maid. Her brown hair was perfectly straight and fell to her waist. She might have been quite pretty but for the look of utter horror that paled her features when her brown eyes fell upon Renekton.
"Show our guest to the prepared wing," the general said, his grip still tight on the signed scroll. "See that he receives the utmost hospitality."
Post by Vivien LeMeire on Jan 24, 2013 1:32:25 GMT -5
Her almond eyes wide, her cheeks pale, the maid, though trembling with fear, steeled herself and stepped over the threshold. "Yes, Grand General."
She bowed low, a curtain of perfectly straight brown hair falling over her shoulder. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she addressed the crocodilian demigod. "Master Butcher," she said, her gaze respectfully trained upon the carpet. "When you are ready, I will show you to your quarters." She stood still, her hands clasped behind her back, awaiting her charge's approval.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2013 1:32:40 GMT -5 by Vivien LeMeire
Renekton observed the frail, paling creature that Swain had called in to accompany him, considering her with more than a tad of disdain. He had never cared to understand what mankind saw in individuals besides themselves, but at first glance her spirit was far, far less tainted than most everyone else he had observed throughout High Command thus far. That fact meant little in the eyes of the Butcher, however; so far as he was concerned, she was just another piece in the rancid pile of human garbage.
"Very well," he grunted after a moment of consideration. "There is nothing left for me at present here but to bide my time..."
Without waiting for the girl's guiding gesture, Renekton set off towards the chamber's entryway, savage mind juggling the implications of what had transpired. Laying low certainly did not suit his purposes, so he supposed he would be saddled with the whelp Swain had summoned for the time being. If worse came to worst, Renekton considered that he could always just devour her handily.
Post by Vivien LeMeire on Jan 24, 2013 5:43:18 GMT -5
Vivien waited until he'd pushed past her, then scurried along in his wake, careful to avoid his long, powerful tail as it swung back and forth with his gait. When they emerged from the meeting hall out into the underground corridor, she gestured courteously to the left, careful never to meet Renekton's glowing gaze with her own. "At the end of the hall, Master Butcher, the entire eastern tunnel has been prepared for you."
Her swift, graceful strides contrasted with the crocodile's powerful lumber as the two made their way down the long passage. She was careful to remain at his side, never setting foot in front, letting the demigod lead. "Are you hungry, my lord?" she inquired softly. "We can have a fattened calf slain for you. Or a goat, if you'd prefer."
There was something rather peculiar about this servant at his beck and call, Renekton decided as the two walked down the passage leading deeper into the mountainous keep. She was either very brave, or very dedicated to her General's service if she was mincing words with one such as he. It was slightly flattering, at least, to be referred to as 'my lord'. It had a certain ring to it, and Renekton felt sure it would be possible to several others among Swain's underlings to refer to him as such.
"One of the calves shall do, methinks," Renekton grumbled shortly after the girl began speaking again, though he cast another sidelong glance at her as they walked. "But ensure that it is brought to my den live. I shall deal with it then myself."
It had certainly crossed Renekton's mind that he could very easily just snap up the girl with a single bite, but that would likely be counter-productive. It would not do to devour one who clearly held some some amount of favor with Swain, and, more importantly, was practically going to be his one link to the outside world for the next week of his existence. It would not be dissimilar to his imprisonment in the League, but at least now he would...could, have someone that he could speak to if he felt obligated to do so. Supposing that the girl minded her step, the coming exile from the world stage looked to be bearable.
Post by Vivien LeMeire on Jan 24, 2013 19:39:15 GMT -5
A barely perceptible expression of horror flashed over the maid's face as she pictured Renekton's gruesome impending slaughter of the livestock. But, just as quickly as it had paled her gentle features, it was gone again. She resumed her steady stride, adopting a mask of grace and poise. "Of course, my lord," she bowed her head, "as you wish."
They neared the end of the twisting corridor where, set into the stone wall, a massive pair of ornately carved wooden doors were drawn open by the two attending doormen. These lowered their heads as Renekton neared, news having already reached them of the slaughter on floors above. They remained perfectly still and silent as the odd pair approached: human statues inviting entry into the massive hall beyond.
"The entire wing is yours to inhabit, my lord. Shall I give you a tour?" Vivien tucked a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. Before them lay a massive hall, a chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling. To the left was a sitting area, a few wing-backed chairs around a fireplace. The righthand wall was lined with bookcases, heavily laden with leatherbound volumes, perhaps more for show than entertainment. There was a curving stair that led up to a second story of the grand suite, and behind it, another hall extended beyond sight.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2013 19:40:09 GMT -5 by Vivien LeMeire
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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