Downtown Noxus

Having had some difficulty getting out of the crowd that had gathered, Rose sighs, and pauses on her way to the bar.

...I guess I have to wait, she thinks, with a small sigh- but she raises an eyebrow in interest as Sivir steps forth. Through the speech, she keeps shuffling her cards, wanting to make sure her hands stay occupied. I've stolen so much out of necessity that it's becoming an impulse- I need to stop. Maybe it'll be harder to pay rent, but these champions are right; Noxus needs to change.

She considers the Battlemistress' speech. Honor... if my parents knew how much I had to steal to get by, they'd be incredibly angered, especially my fathers.



This is... it's Talon, the student realizes, with some surprise, as the assassin stands above the crowd. His words move her, his voice almost reverberating in her chest over the hush in the streets.

It's time to act.

Hesitant at first, Rose steps out of the crowd- but her caution wanes as she sees others do the same. Tugging down her hood to reveal her face, she steps quietly onto the stage, standing behind the champions in silent support.

Sivir sat in silence as the Blade's Shadow made himself known, giving his own form of speech. Sivir nodded in agreement.. then noticed the carriage.. It was him.. the Battlemistress narrowed her eyes at the Grand General as he lumbered towards them.. noticing the guards circling around them.. her knuckles went white around her cross blade, but she made no move at all.

She simply glared at Swain, allowing time for Riven to respond to him.. in the mean time, her muscles tensed.. if they were getting out of here.. they were fighting their way out.

An ominous figure nonchalantly wandered into the street from a nearby tavern. The sheer girth of this person was such that even cloaked, the mass of his upper body was not hidden in the slightest; his hood was pulled low, past brow level but this did not mask a grin of grim intentions.

Sivir watched Riven step forward.. and so did she, standing beside the snow haired warrior. She did not come a long to have Riven face this own her own, nor did she intend to sit back and watch. Still, she remained silent, looking at Vlad for a short time before her eyes fell on Swain.. this could get messy, but whatever came, she was ready for it.

The horses dressed in emerald and gold stopped as they completed their march, snorting intersecting the reverberation of the sound of armoured hooves upon cobblestone. Brilliant gray manes adorning the polished gold, the tinkering of layered bronze mail. They seemed, almost larger; demonic as their crimson eyes glowed within the dark recesses of their spiked helms. The sounds grew damp, joining the hum of background sounds and echoes as steel boots slammed against the ground in tandem. A metal, layered plumage of metal tapered off their golden helms. The eerie darkness between the layered, spiked metal ignited as two, then four glowing slits burst into the night. They marched, heavy footsteps nearly mirroring the canter of horses as others followed shortly after the first wave of Raedsel. One by one, they emerged. Each massive, intricately decorated carriage brought with them a squad of the elite soldiers. They towered over their plain counterparts, the peak of their spiked armour towering nearly two feet above the greatest of their opposition. More and more pairs of armoured boots joined the single file procession, originating from each of the carriages as they marched to their right of their vehicle. Despite the staggered landfall, the distance, and the complete and utter lack of communication between one another – they remained perfectly in sync. An immaculate march.

Silence.

As the last of the Raedsel had dismounted, each one of the towering men paused. Stopping as the wind blew through the square. These decorated soldiers brought neither the dull silver of worn spears- nor the tarnished green and black walls of steel that often accompanied the rank and file. These men, should they still be able to be considered as such, came armed with weapons worthy of their stature. Each one blessed with a double edged sword. The bladed weapon was sealed within an ornate scabbard, black, to match the hilt. A Claymore for any lesser man, these were used merely as one handed weapons for the Guard. A few moments later, each one of the Praetorians turned, their glowing eyes facing the crowd as if commanded by a hidden single – precise spacing between each one. The spikes adorning their plated shoulders little more than a meter apart from one another. A heavy thud. Similarly coloured, a polished black hilt slammed against the ground. A wide, steel pole nearly as long as the Raedsel were tall, adorned by a strangely shaped blade nearly a third of the shaft’s length. The silver topping their weapons glimmered lightly, painted orange from the setting sun; the Raedsel’s emerald cloaks fluttering in the breeze washing through the clearing.

There they remained, towering over the gathered crowd as the key players spoke from one to another- their gauntlets gripping their weapons tightly; ready to move at a moment’s notice. They made no motion to advance or to quell the crowd- relying on their imposing presence to keep the crowd at bay. Only fools dare challenge the Praetorian; the might of the Master Tactician himself.

"When you ask that of a General... we call it treason," he smiled in a disgusting contortion of delighted - then growled "Which is punishable by execution." He let the head of his axe fall and stone spewed from a fresh gauge in the street. "So tell me, do you wish to... reconsider, your demands?" He stopped to crack his neck; "or does Draven have another show to put on?"

Riven's head turned just enough so that she could glance at Darius out of the corner of her eye. "I would have expected more from you, General." Her eyes were stern and strong, fierce and intense like a hawk's. "Likening Noxus to Demacia's less-than-open ideals and even spitting on our traditions. Dissenting opinions have always been welcomed in Noxus. We are Noxians. If we disagree, we do not hide in the shadows like cowards. We make our opinions known, and stand behind our beliefs. Conflict is a part of the way we do things." Her lips curled into a frown and her brow furrowed. "I would have thought you of all people would understand that... Standing up for your own beliefs, fighting through the ranks to prove your worth, even trying to survive on the streets as I did before I made something of myself..." She sighed and shook her head. "But I can see your time in the Tactician's service has blinded you to the true ideals of Noxus, and the blood of the already-defeated has made your blade and tongue dull."

She would have responded further, but Swain spoke, interrupting her train of thought.


Riven's attention turned back to Swain as he finished speaking. He wished to invite her and her supporters here to dinner? Her instincts told her there were many ways such a dinner could go wrong. Food could be poisoned, Swain's guard could attack them and "remove" them from being a thorn in his side. However, killing them in such a way would only serve to prove Riven's point of the corruption plaguing Noxus. Surely Swain knew that. Even still, Riven suspected the Tactician wished to explain his goals to her and her supporters, in an attempt to bring them over to his side, rather than remain in conflict, either by coercion, blackmail, or a simple statement of facts. Alternatively, he would use such methods to dissuade the group from continuing on with their goals.

Riven believed that anything Swain could or needed to say to them could be said in front of the people. Why hide the politics from the people? The very word originated from another meaning "of, for, or relating to citizens." She wanted to simply decline the man's request, have him say what needed to be said in the open. However, she was not the only person here, and while she had taken on the role of leader for the moment, she believed she was not the only one who should have the final say in such things.

"Battle-Mistress, Blade's Shadow, Astrid,, and the rest of you, what do you have to say to the Tactician's offer?"