The Giant began to push the door open, its hinges creaking sharply as the prisoner came into view, blindfolded with a thick sheen of sweat on what skin was visible. He placed the torch he carried into one of the racks on the wall as he began to tear the blindfold off the man, sinking into a deep crouch as he lifted up Chopper for a better look. He paused, puzzled with brow furrowed as the realization of who the man before him actually was settled in.
And then he began to laugh. "Zorn! Oh, Zorn, look at what you've gotten yourself into!" He chuckled, voice rumbling as he began to grin coldly, the already ignited blade of Chopper searing the hair off the man's face.
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 17, 2013 3:27:24 GMT -5
Agammond quaked at the sight of the beast, his blazing eyes. "S-Sion? Wh-why?! What have I done? I don't underst--" When the searing axe touched to his cheek he recoiled, screamed fervently into the gloom. "I've done nothing! PLEASE! WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS TO ME?!"
His eyes flicked up toward the form of Lady Amarills. He knit his brows. "P-please," he begged. "What is this? I've been successful, loyal! Please don't kill me...!"
Post by Zorn Agammond on Feb 17, 2013 3:44:43 GMT -5
Amarills smirks as she watches Sion's little display with Chopper. She steps forward and squats, tracing a finger down the prisoners face. Looking him in the eyes she whispers, the illusion, nowhere near as powerful as LeBlanc's, was still effective...
Agammond would find himself within a massive brilliantly lit ball room, hundreds of people hidden behinds masks were slowly dancing around him. The Illusion itself would feel almost like a dream, his limbs heavy and hard to move. Unable to really focus on anything other than what Amarills allowed. And right now, it was her.
Amarills walks towards him, clasping his hand with her own that were wrapped with long black fishnet gloves that went to her forearms, she was wearing her usual elegant black dress with a black feathery mask. Her hair tied in her usual way with the black rose above her left ear, something she had worn before joining the black rose.
"Kill you? dear? What are you talking about? Are you okay?" Behind her mask, Amarills' eyes would show concern, "Successful? I know... That's why they are throwing this silly... In your honor..." She gives him a playful peck on the cheek before whispering, "Maybe all that blackmail is finally paying off hmm?"
The illusion was more than just a flashy show, she used the ball theme to watch how he acted around nobility, the playful blackmail joke to see his reaction to it. The illusion should be working very much like a dream, he shouldn't question where he was or what he was doing... unless his mind was strong enough to resist the illusion that is.
Last Edit: Feb 17, 2013 3:45:53 GMT -5 by Zorn Agammond
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 17, 2013 13:01:12 GMT -5
Entranced by her illusion, his mind let go. He looked down to his newly unshackled hands, granted her an apprehensive smile and smoothed his wavy hair back from his face. The tinkling of many decorative medals upon his jacket rang out across the dreamscape as he wrapped a presumptive arm around her. "Blackmail? Me? Never." His eyes drew up into crescents when he smiled, this time coy.
Though truly, in the dungeon, he remained shackled on the floor, he walked across the shining ballroom floor in the illusionist's dream, his arm still wrapped around her. He smelled of myrrh and iron. "Shall we dance, miss...?" He paused waiting for the name. "To celebrate?"
Post by Zorn Agammond on Feb 18, 2013 1:42:42 GMT -5
Amarills smiles, her eyes subtly studying his every movement, taking in all the smallest details about his movements, how he walked, his speech patterns and how he looked upon the others in the room. "No of course not, someone as... Honorable as you would never lower themselves to black mail."
She walks with him, her feet don't seem to touch the ground under her dress making it look at though she were floating almost. "A chance to be seen on your arm? Agammond, I'd be honored."
She takes one of his hands in hers and curtsies, "My name is Lady Amarills Astucieux... I doubt you have heard of me." She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling beneath her mask.
Last Edit: Feb 18, 2013 1:43:19 GMT -5 by Zorn Agammond
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 18, 2013 22:09:57 GMT -5
Zorn Agammond puffed out his chest at her flattery, smiled, suave. "Lovely name," he replied as they alighted upon the dance floor. He spun her out, then in again to the music, with the true grace of a noble-bred man. His dance was polished, strong in the way he led, the feel of his calloused hands against hers almost real.
"You're right. I had not heard of you, milady. But I wonder why, hm? You seem as at home here as the rose in your hair: a picture of elegance." He leaned in close. His smoky, perfumed scent would fill her nostrils. He dipped her down, smirking confidently, then righted her as the dream-band's song drew to a close.
Post by Zorn Agammond on Feb 18, 2013 22:44:57 GMT -5
Amarills smirks as she is righted, he was much more... Refined than he seemed he would be. "Well... My dear. Sometimes a woman needs to know when and whom to show her face to... Someone like you, of course.... With such a high reputation... How could I resist?"
She then looks arounds slightly, as if on queue, many of the people began simpy chatting, a few glancing at Zorn as if invited him to come speak with them. The conversations however, would be drawn from his mind and into the illusion, making them speak to him about what he found to be most pleasent, one or two would mention things he didn't particularly care for. Behind her mask she was monitering how he reacted.
Having everyone behind masks made the illusion much easier meaning she ony had to drag the voices from him mind, not the people of their facial expressions.
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 25, 2013 23:45:37 GMT -5
Conversations blurred together, happened all at once, then separately in slow motion, distorted by his murky subconscious. "The Ionian occupation? Why would you bring that up?" he growled. "Cowards hide behind their chemicals."
"Ah, yes, I'd love to try your strawberry tarts, madame Ellene."
"Ho-ho.. Well, she wasn't married at the time, was she?" He winks.
"That clumsy lad will learn how to shoot a gun if it kills him. Hah!"
"Well, the Grand General gave me the order personally. You only got yours by letter?"
"Oh, you know, the missus wanted to purchase property in Ionia while she was still alive. Luckily she passed before things went sour..."
He trails off. The voices fade. The illusion falters. His mind is beginning to question. Why are all the people looking at him? Why are they engaged only in his conversation, not with one another? Why are they all speaking at once and, more importantly, why can he hear each statement and inquiry separately?
He glances questioningly at Amarills as the scene begins to fade away...
Post by Zorn Agammond on Feb 26, 2013 0:41:04 GMT -5
Lady Amarills watches the illusion fall away around them, the moment he had actually begun to question what was happening his mind had realised it was being played with it seemed. She tilts her head slightly, staring at him with an expressionless mask. She stares into his eyes, for a moment they would be into the dungeon again, the foul stench and sound of agonised cries flood back into the senses only to be blocked suddenly once more.
A misty pink fire jumps from her hand and obscures his vision as a distraction as she begin to create another web of illusions around him...
Cries of battle, the clash of steel upon steel and the sounds of magic being hurled overhead like artiliry. The fire fades from his eyes, Amarills begins playing with his Zorns mind.
Orders from the Grand General himself, he was to serve as a distraction for the dauntless vangard themselves and those supporting the unit. Keep them occupied as Swain's elite soldiers moved to hit them from behind... The situation was disperate, Zorns allies hadn't shown up... And his forces were being decimated...
Zorn was currently behind his own lines, preparing to go into the battle himself hoping to boost the moral of his soldiers, surely, the reinforcements would arrive soon...
Post by The Master Tactician on Feb 26, 2013 1:29:13 GMT -5
"Defensive positions!" general Zorn cried to the rear lines. "Archers at the ready!" He sat atop an impressive warhorse, clad in the pristine robes of a military mage. His hands abandoned its reins and began to move in arcane arcs, the deft motions of a Witherwood-educated mage. White sparks formed at his fingertips, which he shot up into the air, perhaps to signal his exact position to the approaching reinforcements. They were approaching, weren't they?
"The Dauntless Vanguard rallies!" His voice rang out over the battlefield. He would not let arrows fly into the fray while there was still a chance they might pierce his own unit--but some of the Vanguard still marched forward in formation, quite apart from the clash of battle in the valley below. "Long shots! Fire!" A storm of arrows sped through the air, over the battle below and directly into Demacian ranks.
As the sparks he'd conjured settled, they seemed to expand, to knit together, to form a web of white energy over the battalion, recognizable to any studied mage as a protective measure against projectiles: a preventative measure against the retaliation that would certainly follow.
Post by Zorn Agammond on Feb 27, 2013 23:41:02 GMT -5
The arrows that fired into tha vanguard seemed to have little to no effect, raising their shields to block the majority of the arrows while any that managed to make it past the wall of shields only seemed to glance off the armour. A loud cry thundered from the vangard and a soldier known as Garen charged forwards toward the general, the battle field wavering for a moment... Amarills was getting impatient.
She speed up the illusion, Zorns own personal unit was locked in combat with the vanguard, Garen now faced Zorn... It was time to see how he reacted to such a threat to his life. How confident he was and to see how eager he was to prove himself.
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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