Ashe woke to the howling winds and hard ice digging into her cheek. She opened her eyes, lashes laced with snow but all she could feel was nothing. Just the cold, and the pain, and nothing. It was a strange sensation, and one she was entirely comfortable with. She flirted with the idea of just closing her eyes again and letting Freljord take her, both spirit and body. But something stopped her. Clasped in her right hand was the bow she did not remember taking with her. She clutched it tighter, feeling its icy surface pinch her skin and though the wind was battering her ears, she could hear it sing. She wasn't allowed to die yet.
The Archer stood up, staggering slightly as she did so. Her legs were on fire, but it was the numb kind - the kind where you knew there were flames licking at your ankles but you didn't care because the pain wasn't really there. One glance around told her all she needed to know: the pile of stones lay just a few feet away, the mound of snow covered by a blood-stained, tattered white cloak decorated in wreaths of ripped gold. She moved her lips, words without promise, then turned and began to move.
Her memories were a blur of words and images, only stopping to remind her of what had happened and that was when the Archer would stop walking and look up to the heavy clouds and exhaled. Her whole body ached and she knew she had bruises everywhere without even having to look. But she was clean all the same; her body had been untouched by the icy daggers, though her clothes had been all but ripped to shreds. Her hood was gone, leaving pure white hair to tangle in the growing breeze. Her cloak had been left behind, but the scraps of material was just enough.
Snow began to swirl around her feet from the gusts. Ashe thought it was nothing. Nothing compared to the Vortex, and so she kept her pace despite the strength needed to do so. Names began to slip from her tongue, the names of those she had lost and how the last thing she heard were their screams and yells. How they had been powerless, and how it was simply the way it was. There was no revenge to be had, only that she had a life to live and it was not for herself.
Another roar from the wind pushed Ashe to her knees and the next thing she knew, her sight began to blur and tears began to fall. She did not sob or cry, she simply allowed the liquid to drip down and vanish into the field of snow. Her hands curled into the white, palms aching from the cold of both ice and true ice. Her bow shimmered angrily, pulsing with the faintest blue that matched the Archer's eyes - though she did not know it yet.
Then the bow seemed to scream at her, a high pitched whistle piercing her thoughts like a sharpened arrow and Ashe saw the bright glow of crystal just as her world turned to dark once again.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 4, 2014 18:57:32 GMT -5
The storm was incredible, unlike anything the Cryophoenix had ever seen. From the moment she had met its headwinds, her instincts screamed for her to turn and flee that she might live another day. At first she had thought it silly vestigial of a storm, yet the more she saw of its destruction, the more suspicious she became of its nature. The patterns of the winds, the size, the fury: everything about it was wrong. Was this one of the dreaded aberrations the humans’ wars had wrought upon the land? A storm that meandered, unabating, destroying all that it crossed. She searched on in morbid curiosity, passing field after field of solid rime that had snuffed the life of all it had passed over. Yet despite the destruction, she could sense none of that terrible magic that chewed at the fabric of reality. Only death stalked in this land.
It was then that she passed over a gruesome battlefield, the crimson of human blood soaked deep into the tundra. Anivia descended, drawn by the anomaly: every other victim she had encountered had simply succumbed to the cold, yet here jagged spears of ice were tinted red with blood. Whatever power drove the storm had been merciless. She bent a wing to turn backwards: a storm this large moved and there was no sense risking injury by delving further.
The cry of a hawk pulled her from her reverie. The voice was old and strong, yet the cry a clear call of distress. A glimpse of brown wings vanishing into the blowing snow and she pushed her way forward. Perhaps there was still one life to be saved. The wind screamed its fury around her, her sense of its malicious intent only intensifying as she defied its power. The second call was weaker, and far below. Internally she berated herself: only an elemental might keep itself aloft against such a force. She bent her wings and dove through the storm hoping against hope that she was not too late.
Upon reaching the ground, a small patch of brown was all that stood out against the whiteness of the snow. It stood atop a small mound in the snow, and Anivia approached she recognized it as a victim of the storm. Her clothing was tattered by the raging storm, her hair bleached a strange white color Anivia had never seen amongst the wandering tribes, yet the hard rime of the storm had thus for spared her. While she knew that the humans treasured the dignity of their dead, Anivia would not deny her kin a hard-won meal in the storm. It was unlikely that the humans would ever find this one’s corpse under a sea of ice. She crooned comfortingly as she approached, yet to her surprise, the hawk made no move to worry its hard-won meal. It stood atop the body staring at Anivia with an uncanny intelligence in its eyes.
The snow shifted with Ashe’s breath, and Anivia narrowed her eyes with suspicion. No human could survive such cold, let alone the malice of the storm. Yet still her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Anivia spread her wing around the pair. She may not be able to warm them, but at the very least she could shield them from the winds. She bent forward, nudging the woman’s shoulder gingerly with her beak. Sleep in such a place, no matter the exhaustion, could only lead to death.
It was cold, she thought to herself. The damp was seeping into what little clothing she had and into her skin and bones. It was refreshingly numb, soothing her bruises and injuries but the cold did nothing for her heartache. The wind flew over her like an icy sea, wave upon wave crashed down over her ears but there was no way for her to move to shelter. There was none for miles. No trees, no mountains, no caves. She could see nothing and she could hear nothing but the screams.
Every moment she drifted back to the world, the cries of her brethren returned and Ashe could only pray that they would stop - but they never did. And every time she faded away once more into dark, she would feel something akin to relief - as if everything was done and over. But it would be a small respite, she knew and yet she clung onto that hope. Her bow would not let her die and she wondered why she did not just let go.
Then her eyes fluttered and she was there. Not dead, but alive and the pain was back. Screams and screams and screams and finally, silence and Ashe would have laughed if she could feel her throat.
The screech of a bird replaced the ghosts, once loudly and she knew it was above her, then another a little fainter. She wondered if it was there to feast on her flesh. She had no idea how long she was lying here, only that she could feel nothing but the slow pulse of her bow and her breath and eyes every time snow brushed against it. The sound snapped again, and then she felt something sharp land on her back. Heavy yet light and she was scared yet not. There was nothing to fear now. She would keep her eyes closed and wait for the sharp beak...
The only thing that came next was the sharp stop of the sea. Ashe could not open her eyes, but she could feel another presence there. Cold and warm, a being she did not know. It was unfamiliar to her yet somehow, she felt soothed and safe. She attempted to move her hand, finally able to try without the wind biting her limbs only to feel something against her shoulder. She opened her mouth, her lips cracked and filmed in a thin coat of snow and diluted blood and she croaked something incoherent.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 5, 2014 8:47:41 GMT -5
There was still some warmth left the woman, a light of life that refused to let go. It seemed to say something. Was it a word? Some language she had not learned? She clicked her beak thoughtfully as her eyes settled upon the hawk before her. While Anivia’s bulk stood bulwark against the winds, she could not seek out aid. But this one, he was still strong and able. She studied him briefly before keening out her hunger. The great hawk tilted its head in confusion, but she refused to relent, crying out over and over as she sidled closer. With the rustling of feathers, he turned on his tail and fled the shelter Anivia provided, vanishing into the curtains of snow.
Anivia turned her attention back to the woman prostrate before her. To touch the woman directly was folly, simply hastening her steady slide from life. Yet to leave her failing in the snow was as much a death sentence. If she could not be awakened now, Anivia feared she may never do so again. Remaining a bulwark against the wind, Anivia redoubled her gentle crooning as the worried the shoulder once more, this time attempting to turn the woman over on her back. “Awaken child. It is not yet your time to leave this world.”
The screams had stopped and that's all that mattered. Ashe finally managed to open one eye, though she felt both raw and tired. She could not keep it open by herself and before long, it had fallen shut once again. Then the sound of yet another bird cried out, the echo carrying through the wind.
She almost found it funny. Two birds fighting over the right to a meal that was not yet dead, though judging by the weight of the avian that had made a perch of her spine, they could easily rip her apart without another thought. Another shrill cry pierced her, this time closer and she felt as if the world had been lifted from her as the bird released its sharp hold on her and flew away. Then she felt something hard against her shoulder again... and a voice.
Ashe twisted her head to the side, struggling to hear the sudden intonation again. It was a strange sound, and the words reverberated through her numb body and a small warmth spread through her fingertips. She wondered if she were going crazy or if her bow had actually spoken to her and not just whispered thoughts into her mind. The Archer moved her lips against the snow, murmuring into the cold before coughing. A drop of blood slipped into the ice and vanished.
"T...time..." She rasped out, her own voice slow and lost. Ashe was grasping for syllables she could not remember, sounds she could not recall. "No... no time..." Then she coughed again, a strange hacking as she seemed to attempt a laugh at the same time.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 6, 2014 4:02:57 GMT -5
An eye opened, if only briefly, a pure icy blue haloed by a spiderweb of bloodshot veins. Though she stirred, she seemed not to have the strength to draw herself from the pain. Perhaps she wished let go, wander what paths she might find after death. How a woman could still live under such conditions bewildered Anivia. In her experience they were so very fragile, freezing at the very touch and modifying all parts of the world with both fire and shade to remain within that tiny range they might survive. So what made this woman different? Where all else was encapsulated by the deadly rime of the storm, she mere laid atop the snow. No footsteps approached her, having long since blown away. Anivia had passed no towns, no entrenched camps where she may have warmed herself before becoming lost in the snow, yet still she could feel the warmth of life radiate from her. “If there is one thing I will always have, it is time. And so long as you draw breath, you have it as well.”
In prying the woman’s shoulder from the ground, a glistening blue light caught Anivia’s eye. Cradled in her arms, the true ice bow pulsed slowly, as if feeding energy to its fallen holder. Anivia could do little but stare in wonder. So this world, too, could generate that perfect crystal, and without a protector’s will to guide it. Anivia had encountered the substance before, could even create it given enough time. To her greatest of mortal allies she had granted but trinkets, vessels of magical power and strength. Yet to craft an entire weapon? It would take eons to create or hundreds working together. Always this world seem to hint at greater and greater mystery and power.
The screech of a hawk shattered Anivia’s pondering. A glance at the skies told her the great storm was moving on, marching ever onward in its unending warpath. From the storms edge she spotted her fellow laboring over the weight of some unfortunate beast, talons buried deep in its flesh. So he had heeded her after all. She greeted him tersely, beginning to question the intelligence with which he guided her to this woman. No doubt there was more to this creature than she assumed as well. The kill was fresh, a deer-like creature no bigger than a large dog, still steaming in slightly in the snow. Any warmth would welcome to her new charge.
“It would seem there are many who would not have you die today.” She grappled the animal briefly practically throwing it atop the woman that she might share it’s panic heat before it too froze in the cold of the Freljord. While the woman would desire warmth above all else, she truly needed the liquid it held within. The humans cooked their meat, unable or unwilling to stomach the raw flesh of others, but it would still be sustenance. She bit deep into the creature’s neck, a slow ooze of partially congealed blood seeping from the post-mortem wound, then pushed it into the archer’s upturned face. “Drink deep of this one’s sacrifice that you might see the next. Show me the strength of a Freljordian.”
Ashe was being moved and tossed like a fine salad drenched in icy water and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She merely whimpered when a sharp pain lanced through her arm as something attempted to turn her over. Again, the cooling numbness only proved to be comforting rather than pain and Ashe wondered if she had always been this way. Those born in the Freljord quickly learned that the harsh, biting cold would both hurt and heal, yet not even the oldest of her tribe could stand still for so long in the wintry storms. When she was left lying on her stomach, she asked how her heart could still be beating when the ice drifted so close.
She wondered if this strange voice was mocking her, with promises of time and life when in actuality, she had already slipped into the other world. But it was not so when a piercing cry sounded once more. There was no tune she knew other than that, and it was then did she realize that the screams had faded. She could no longer hear the phantom echoes, though she could never forget their faces and the sound of their laughter. But something warm was approaching, and the memories fled before her eyes. Ashe could smell nothing through this cold, but she could certainly feel.
The voice spoke once more and all at once, something heavy collided with her. Ashe felt her breath escape from her throat roughly and the heat lit her skin on fire. The sudden change in temperature almost made the Archer cry out, but she could make no noise but quiet whispers, struggling to be rid of the weight on her back. Then there was something near her face, and something that even she could smell. A sharp, coppery smell that reminded her of...
Ashe's eyes shot open, ice breaking away and she saw the blood dripping and steaming before her in the snow. Blood soaked hands and blood soaked faces streamed past her open gaze, and blood soaked cloaks on white. Pure white decorated in crimson and lanced with flesh and skin. Blood from the dead - she saw it now, and as the liquid bled onto her face, the Archer attempted to heave herself upwards but it was no use. The dead creature was too heavy and she was too weak. The blood began to dribble onto her lips and Ashe retched in response.
"P...please," she gasped, rivulets of scarlet trickling from her mouth but she did not know what to say. The voice was trying to soothe her with an almost maternal tone, but this... Ashe knew that her people once drank the blood of animals because every party of a hunt mattered. Yet that tradition was discarded and the Archer had never seen it. She tasted the salt on her the tip of her tongue and her empty stomach heaved once again. Ashe swore she could smell the rot on the dead creature.
Yet, even as she lay there she realized that she was moving. Trying to escape death and blood and memory. Though still weak, she was moving her head, craning her neck uncomfortably and her hands were shifting. "I... I will live..." Ashe squeezed her eyes shut, "Please... remove this thing from me..."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 6, 2014 22:19:17 GMT -5
Almost as soon as the weight of the weight fell upon her, the archer began to show signs of life. She may have been sustained despite the cold, but her body still required that warmth. Anivia leaned closer trying to discern the muted whispers, nonsensical despite their urgency. “You are safe with me, young one. Rest and recover your strength.”
But her struggles did not cease. A look of true terror beset the archer’s as the deer’s blood drained across her face, staining the snow red. Finally she was moving in earnest, limbs beating ineffectually against the ice. She refused to partake of the animal’s blood, the sustenance slowly draining away. Could the humans be so limited in their consumption? The kill was fresh, meat more pure than any this woman could have dined upon in her life. The great hawk let out a final squawk at the Archer’s revival and took to the sky.
Anivia turned her head in confusion at the uttered word. Please? Was there something she desired? Needed to be said? It was rare the creature that would deny itself life in the name of that which is normal. Yet she spoke again, assuring her vitality if only she might be released. “As you wish.” Anivia had no doubt of the woman’s pain, spending so long a time near death. Carefully she lifted the dear from her back, resting it instead at the woman’s side should the warmth prove necessary to limber her limbs. “Do not move too swiftly. The frost may yet have laid claims of your flesh.” Despite saying it, Anivia wondered whether it could be true, that the wielder of a true ice weapon might succumb to the cold. Anivia stood back to wait in silence, a statue of ice against the frozen wastes, knowing full well that there was little more she could do to help.
Her relief at the weight being lifted was almost palpable as she sighed, the breath escaping as a tiny wisp of white fog that faded in the snow. Though Ashe refused to admit it wholly to herself, there was no denying that the last vestiges of warmth was enough to thaw her to move. But she found she did not want to as her body continued to draw heat from the dead animal. But the corpse was beginning to go cold and before long, Ashe could no longer find it within herself to stay where she was.
Gritting her teeth, the Archer began the arduous task of trying to sit up or at the very least, push herself away from death. Her breathing came out in weak gasps as she tried to move herself, feeling as if her ribs were attempting to puncture her lungs. Ashe knew she had no shards of bone floating within her, but it certainly felt like it. The feeling of knives constantly stabbing into her flesh remained with her as she pulled herself up, biting her lip to stop herself from hissing out loud.
Her vision was blurry but she could see the creature now - a smudge of light blue against white, with a scarlet gaze and a wicked beak and shards for wings. She could not rub the ice from her eyes but she knew that this was no bird she had ever seen before. Especially if it could talk. It - she - stood there, still as stone and Ashe felt the avian's gripping gaze on her. She clutched her bow tighter, but knew that she was in no immediate danger. The creature would not have done so much to wake her only to kill her again.
Ashe sat up slowly. She could not move her legs for they were too numb to be of any use, but she could at least shake her head slowly. As the dizziness faded, she looked at the bird before her once again, taking in the sheer size of the creature and its strange body. The Archer coughed, feeling the cold air tickle her throat irritatingly but it was good to know she could breathe - a thought she would never have had a mere hour ago. The heel of her palm crunched in the firm frost as she dragged her weapon closer to herself, attempting to push at least her upper body away from the body of what looked like a deer.
"What... who are you?" She asked, glancing back up at, she supposed, her savior. Ashe was surprised to hear that her voice was not so raspy, but it was still hoarse. Then again, she thought bitterly, she had survived when no-one else had. Either there was something greater planned for her life, or she was spared simply because some mocking deity wanted to know if the suffering would be too great to bear. "Regardless... I suppose I must thank you."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 8, 2014 2:25:12 GMT -5
Freed from the bulk of the beast, the archer seemed to relax considerably, her countenance suddenly calm as she lay still in the snow. For a moment, Anivia might have believed she had finally found peace in death, before a small puff of mist revealed her. The woman moved in small, cramped movements, not unlike the extremely elderly of her kind. True to her word, Anivia remained still amongst the ice. The fight to make use of every moment held little meaning to an immortal being. Had she been right to help the woman? Or had she doomed her to a long life of crippling pain and regret? Only time could tell the answer.
Anivia felt prying eyes upon her. From her first moments on Runeterra, she was beheld with gazes of wonder, fear, and even contempt. The humans were insatiably curious in their unending quest for knowledge and power. Let them take in their fill: learn the power of the world they had defiled. When finally she was addressed, Anivia took two steps backwards. With a sweep of her wing, a thin wind sprung to life at her feet followed by a flash of sapphire magic. She bowed deep toward the ice as the feint runes that adorned her body blazed with light, their mirrors flaring to life in the snow around her. There was no telling who this woman may be, but the greeting of her people could not be wrong.
“I am Anivia. A champion and delegate of your world’s Institute of War.” As the power faded around her she stepped forward to again. “As for what I am… your people call me a Cryophoenix. I am an elemental being of ice and wind called upon by the summoners of the League to heal the age-old wounds to your planet.” She turned her head to observe the archer with unveiled curiosity. Her survival was remarkable, even unreasonable as she attempted to make her way to her feet. “I would accept your thanks or curses for what I have done, but it was the ice that willed that you might survive. Why have you wandered here, child? What purpose do you have in this land of death?”
Ashe was still, quiet in her awe at the creature who called herself Anivia. There was no mistaking the magic seeped into those glacial wings. She had not heard of something like this existing, not even in the stories her mother used to keep from her. She inclined her head politely, the best she could, as the pins of light faded from the crystalline ice. "The Institute of War?" Ashe murmured, furrowing her brow. She could not recall the name, but decided not to ask. It was probably something far beyond the borders of Freljord, and it was not her place to leave.
However, she could not help but shift uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze of the Cryophoenix. Ashe felt as if the avian was attempting to glean some sort of secret she kept. Yet her voice was stronger now when she responded. "I... yes," when the feeling began to return to her fingers and she started to rub her legs, trying to bring some warmth back to those as well. "If the ice willed it, then it must be so." One could not miss the hint of bitterness that returned on her tongue, and her self-massage began to draw angry, red marks on her skin. Both relief and pain mingled together, but that was what she wanted. Anything but to remember that which had escaped her.
"Would I wander here alone?" Ashe asked, more to herself if anything. "No, there were others with me. More family than friend. My foes too, ripped..." She talked as she tested her thawing limbs, her voice strangely empty yet they echoed within her heart, a whirlwind of burning fire amidst the freezing wind that threatened to consume her. Still, she pressed on. It felt like centuries ago, yet she could still recollect the freshest of cries. The Archer's nails pressed into her skin, the sensation odd in its numbness. "I had a purpose," she pressed her lips together and if they could be any whiter, they most certainly would be. "Not anymore. The storm took it all."
Ashe remembered the glint of blue, the hidden daggers beneath cloaks and the shrill screech of a bird. She remembered the way they told her she had to go, and to take those she trusted the most with her. She remembered the marking on a worn, yellow map and the exact location... and she remembered wondering how they would know this, so soon after the attack. But it had not been her place to question them, and it would never be in her place to defy them.
Yet now, Ashe felt her jaw throb as she clenched her teeth together. "They took it all." Her bow began to shimmer in the snow and the Archer's fingers slid through the cold to grasp it once more. "All but lands of icy mountains and chilly caves and its fortresses of thick stone." She glanced up, back at Anivia and her eyes were both lost yet full of conviction. "They cannot take those dreams away. I will not let them."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 8, 2014 4:11:41 GMT -5
The woman seemed to grow visibly despite laying trapped in the snow. Anivia’s thought turned to the gruesome bloodshed she had witnessed in the midsts of the storm. They were not bystanders, caught in the crossfire of nature’s wrath, but warriors bent on each other’s destruction. Even here, in the harshest of climates, could the humans think of nothing but war? She watched with a sinking heart as the archer before her spoke of some other, some opponent to overcome, clutching the true ice bow at her side as an implement of kin-killing. To see her off with hatred in her heart was unbearable. If they meant to survive, the humans would be forced to learn the harsh lessons of reality.
“You won’t let them? Alone with your mighty bow you would wage a war of vengeance?” Disgust rang in her voice Anivia stepped forward, suddenly menacingly tall over the fallen archer. “Who are you to stand above another and claim your way is law? And what’s to stop them from placing a sword to your throat in equal retribution?”
Had the Archer be of clearer mind, she would have no doubt balked under the pressure of the Cryophoenix's gaze, but Ashe's mind was a tumbling mess. Not from what she had just said, but from what Anivia had. Her eyebrows remained furrowed as she stared at the avian of ice, trying to remember, remember what it was she had told herself.
What had she dreamed of? What had she seen? The places where her ancestors had dwelt, reduced to nothing but rubble yet Ashe still imagined the great fortresses still standing tall and glimmering proudly. She had run around those unstable walls, touching the cool stone and dreaming of a day when she would rebuild it. She had seen her people suffer, yet through it they had grown stronger. But she didn't want that. Was that her life? To live for others, to live and to give them something to live for and to protect Freljord as her ancestors did?
"You have mistaken me," she said, slowly at first, tasting her words as sour and uncertain. Ashe's eyes settled shut, unwilling to stare too deeply into the fiery crimson, but also to think. The howling of the wind and the gentle fall of snow was addling her mind, but she tried again. "The strong survive. That's how it's always been." She took a deep breath and opened her gaze to the world. "But when I saw the Vortex and the horrors it wrought, the blood and the bodies... the lands, Freljord, holds us. It is not the strong, it is strength. Strength in unity. Together, we survive, and in solidarity there is nothing we cannot achieve."
Ashe looked at the Cryphoenix, and gave a weak smile and it was difficult to imagine that such words would come from her. "And believe me, they have tried many times now and each time they have proven to be unsuccessful. It seems as if something out there really does want me alive, though for what purpose I am still uncertain of."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 8, 2014 22:31:22 GMT -5
Anivia blinked, drawing her head backwards in surprise. The woman before her was young, hardly more than fledged. Yet she showed a wisdom Anivia had only encountered among the greatest mages of the Institute. Was that why others wanted her dead?
She turned, a flick of her tail raising a small pedestal of ice behind the archer that she might support herself. “So few of your people seem to understand that. Forgive me my quickness to cast judgement.” Pockets of clear sky were beginning to show once more as the storm continued a to clear. A serene calm lay over the land with nothing in sight but the blanket of pristine ice. “All life is sacred, whether its purpose is clear or hidden from view.” She turned again to the archer, settling herself in the snow. Save for her ruby eyes that glowed with their own light, she might have been mistaken for a formation in the ice.
For a moment, she merely observed. The woman was a complete mystery, a gem nearly lost to the world. And if what she said was true, this was not the first time. Could she be blind to the strength here mere survival bespeaks? “If your purpose eludes you, ask yourself instead why others would seek to end you despite the purity of your intentions.”
Ashe nodded mutely at the other's response, now as quiet as ever. She was uncertain if she had said too much but Anivia seemed to be appeased by her response. She heard the shift of ice behind her and quickly tilted her head to look over her shoulder (painfully) before thanking the Cryophoenix. "We are never really free from judgement," she said, admittedly embarrassed the second the words slipped from her mouth. Who was she to attempt words of wisdom, especially for a being such as the one before her?
So she merely busied herself by attempting to pull her body onto the makeshift support behind her. Though Ashe felt the cold shoot through her arm, she knew it would be more comfortable than laying on the snow. Yet she could not quite move her whole legs completely yet, and so simply contented herself with leaning back, sighing in relief. Her shoulders ached but at least she could rest.
It appeared Anivia was not done with her yet as she settled her great wings. Again, Ashe balked subtly against her gaze but she refused to let the Cryophoenix intimidate her so. Even if the bird displayed signs of friendship and spoke of peace, she could never be certain. She had been lied to before. A small smile appeared, almost crooked on her face as the near laughable inquiry was posed. She closed her eyes, pondering briefly over her answer before she spoke.
"Why? I suppose it's because they think I'm a threat to them. That because I wield Avarosa's bow, carved from true ice, which makes me our tribe's rightful leader." Ashe licked her lips. "If that my purpose, to lead Avarosa's people to a better life, then that is what I will accept." She opened her eyes, glancing at Anivia. "Is it wrong to ask for more?"
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.
Hang out in a citystate, visit the Institute of War, explore the uncharted recesses of Runeterra. Whatever you decide, good luck, have fun and happy writing.
hello new skin yes. gonna work out some kinks but let me know what you guys think. it's not all that flashy but i didn't really like the tabs so the side bar is back. oh and the cbox has also made it's appearance. -rurin.
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