The trail of fire

An impossibly loud roar split the din of battle as Brand descended into Noxian ranks with earth shattering force, rending apart shields both magical and physical, the will of the magi and the steel of the warrior falling in tandem.

Burnt flesh splintered from the elemental's host as he threw himself against the army; any and all semblance to humanity he once bore consumed entirely by the rage flowing underneath his molten skin.

Hide behind your PARLOR TRICKS, for all the good it will do!

Facing who he assumed was the leader of his opposition, Brand drove his limbs into the swiftly dwindling Noxian forces, spewing flame from his mouth like some sort of legendary beast, he was a god of wrath, bound to the long dead husk of a nameless man; seemingly ignoring the multitude of blades and spells piercing his form.

Sprinting across the earth at a blinding speed, the burning vengeance tossed aside all in his path, a storm of fire through a field of wheat.

Although the Noxian troops were stalwart, no amount of training had prepared them for fury of this magnitude.

A familiar pounding filled Renekton's mind as the immense battle raged, the feeling of a fight that would likely be for his own life. The Burning Vengeance's form was deceptively frail looking as it blasted aside everything in its path with seemingly unstoppable force. Renekton was prepared for this sort of battle, however, he always had been. In the final months of his life on his homeworld, he had consistently clashed with fellow gods, struck down many with his fell blade or tore them limb from limb. The massacre that Brand was enacting at the moment was an almost familiar sight to the reptilian demigod, particularly after partaking in the Butchering only days before.

Renekton had his duties, however, and it would not do to stand idly by while his...'benefactor's soldiers were blasted to ashes. In the interest of subduing a raging god-like being, facing it in a more comfortable form would be preferable. Reaching back into the crevices of his ancient mind, Renekton took hold of the deific force that dwelt within all of his kind and forced it to the surface. Though some had thought it diluted by the madness that purportedly plagued his mind, few could doubt the absolute power that the demigod wielded without themselves facing destruction. As the coursing power wracked his very essence, Renekton's wicked grin widened at a small memory from home, recalling what it was that the mortals of his world called him when he strode into battle in all his glory. In their tongue, he was known as the Dominus.

A massive surge of deific might filled Renekton's being to the fullest, and his form began to expand at an absolutely frightening rate. With a splitting howl of bloodlust, the demigod was practically doubling in stature and multiplying in raw might, the imposing armor encasing his being was twisted and shaped by the deific forces as well. Standing at nearly fifteen feet in height, Renekton effortlessly forged a path to the front lines of the clash, hefting his truly colossal blade in one hand. En route, the crocodilian demigod unleashed a deafening bellow as the dirt and ashes accumulated on the field began to swirl about him in a veritable sandstorm. How foolish the Burning Vengeance was to challenge a true god in combat; he would receive no mercy, save for the fact that his judgment would be swift.

Darius walked toward the battle, axe resting on his shoulder. A flash of lightning streaked his silhouette across the ground before a resounding crack signaled the first of many raindrops, he looked to Swain and waited. He had toys to test before it was time to dispatch this threat.

One could only hope that Renekton had been able to roll away as the whistling rocket closed in on Brand, exploding at his feet in a shimmering cloud, the powdered compound quickly eating up the oxygen in the immediate area. Nearly half of the accompanying battalion lay wounded or dead, but the remaining mage-soldiers chanted on, their combined spellcasting a haunting song over the scorched earth. The violet dome connected with the hilltops on the valley's far side in a flash of blinding light.

"Fall back! Do not destroy the body!"[/b] the general commanded, his voice still magically amplified over the sounds of battle. That was its aim all along, to have us obliterate its vessel, that it might slip into another... Swain's gaze fell upon the body nearest Brand: Renekton's. If the Burning Vengeance escaped its current host for The Culling Blade of Noxus, it might well become unstoppable. This is why we chose you, Jericho. Seize it. Act now, while it is extinguished.[/color][/size] Eyes wide with comprehension, enlivened by his sudden realization, Swain called out over the magus-troops, "Close the barrier! Imprison it now!"

The dome of purple light quivered for a moment, then emitted a reverberating rumble--deeper than thunder--before collapsing upon the smoldering menace. As though drawn in by a black hole, the barrier contracted in an instant. It molded to Brand's armless form, a glowing bubble sealing in Singed's compounds, dampening magic.

Kill... You... All...

The elemental could be seen through the fog of poisonous chemicals, struggling against his confines. He stepped towards the grand general, one uneasy footfall at a time, his fire glowing dimly through the magical prison which bound him.

Kill...

Brand flickered as he approached the grand general, slowly crossing the battle-scarred ground in a vain attempt to harm him.

Then, inches before reaching him, his flame roared to life, allowing him to drive home one final point.

His forehead.

Directly into Swain's nose.

another loud crack echoed across the battlefield, signaling Brand's last act of defiance against Noxus, his flame sputtering out and leaving his eyes hollow.

The elemental's consciousness faded.

Only embers remained.

He was alive, But barely.

The entity lumbered nearer; an uneasy stillness settled over the troops. Encased with Singed's compounds in the anti-magic field, Brand's flames gradually smothered. Swain narrowed his eyes. It would give him grim pleasure to watch this abomination collapse in the soot of its own destruction. But it did not. It fought, a rage and determination in its eyes to match the general's own. In a blaze of fury, it leaped forward like a wildcat upon prey. Swain's withered body was not dexterous enough to sidestep Brand in this final act of defiance. Its head connected with his nose and the sickening crunch of brittle bones echoed through the valley. Beatrice took flight with a shrill cry of alarm.

Swain flew backwards several feet and landed sprawled in the ash. His hands flew to his face, where his shroud was already soaking through with blood. His eyes squeezed shut. A grunt of pain escaped him as he propped himself up on his elbows. Swelling spread quickly from the site of impact and through the right side of his face. His nose was definitely broken, his cheekbone likely fractured as well.

Finally extinguished, Brand collapsed to the blackened ground in a cloud of soot. When she was certain the threat had been properly subdued, The Raven descended, alighted upon her master's shoulder and cooed gently over him. "Collect it," he ordered thickly, eyes still squeezed shut, "Double up the barrier. Load it up."