It was not every day the Queen of Freljord found herself with more time than she knew what to do with. It was in moments of great doubt when these situations crept upon her with an uncanny stealth, and Ashe felt... troubled. All was peaceful, or as well as they could be, in her beloved city-state. With the ink washed from her wrist, and the appropriate papers filed in the appropriate places, the Frost Archer found her hands strangely empty. It was then did she realize that she had not held her bow in some time. She was aware that she had fallen slightly out of favor with Summoners, though a fair few had not given up hope. Each match she participated in seemed to fall in her favor, but out of her team's. Nevertheless, it was a matter beyond her influence.
Still, this feeling of emptiness was not something she wished to entertain any longer. A few words to her companions told of her intent, along with a message for her absent King. It no longer bothered her - she was free to do as she wished. Ashe changed out of her restricting Queen's dress and opted for her normal gear and supplies, along with her frost bow. Contentment filled her as she slung it around her shoulder; though she was to lead, she was also a warrior. An archer whose skills were apparently fit enough to lead and unite an entire nation. But not with the skills themselves, but with diplomatic peace. She chuckled to herself at the thought, the irony that strength was still a necessity yet it was the very thing she fought so hard to avoid. It was strength in itself and it was what you did with the strength that made it something worthwhile.
But her thoughts would not linger on such heavy values. Instead, she made her way out the palace doorways and to the high gates of Rakelstake. The guards let her pass without another word, and she nodded her thanks. It was then did she make the journey to her destination. Though she could simply use a portal to the Institute of War, it was the travel that made it worthwhile. She never enjoyed taking shortcuts in life: "the only time success comes before work is in the dictionary", as some Summoners had muttered. She grasped at her bow lightly as her boots crunched against the snow. The flakes falling from the sky was slow and soft, a godsend in Freljord.
Ashe followed the well-known path to the outskirts of the icy continent, to the bend of the Serpentine River. She followed the river-way with great caution, knowing that she was nearing the Howling Marsh. It was a place she wanted to avoid, for she had heard stories and Tryndamere's history with that place. Once she had rinsed her skin from dirt, she broke away from the water, moving to hug closer to the Ironspike Mountains just as the marshy swamplands came into view. Here, she stopped for the night. Ashe had made sure to avoid the burned remains of civilisation, tents and trees yet to grow where fire had once spread. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself as she ate and drank a little, wondering at herself. To say the least, her marriage with Tryndamere had provided a valuable asset, and entrance to the League. There was nothing more to it, was there?
Of course, there had been whispers of rumor, that the Ice Queen had her heart melted by the Barbarian King. She neither confirmed nor denied such claims, knowing that doing so would merely stoke the flames higher. In essence, she had no time for such feelings. Having to deal with such an emotion along with attempting to guide an entire city to solidarity . But she had to remember that she was not alone in such a task - this was another reason for the marriage. Another whom to share the burden with, yet she could not bring herself to point fingers. A long sigh escaped between her lips as she fell into deeper contemplation, no longer making heads nor tails of such roiling thought until sleep claimed her.
It was in the early morning when Ashe continued her way to the Institute. Surrounding the grand buildings was a mass of forest and foliage, and this was where she continued into. It was around the afternoon when she stopped in a spacious enough clearing to set her supplies to the ground and to unsling her bow and check over its surface. Once she had deemed it healthy to use, she propped it up against a trunk before walking away to set up some targets. Some on the ground, some close together and some high up in the trees. From all directions, different colored leaves were pressed into trunks with gum, sticks were angled oddly and any sort of oddity would be considered fair game. Anything she could find, she would use. It had been a while since she had done this, and she realized that she missed such work greatly.
Ashe hopped to the ground and walked back to her bow, rubbing the string habitually as she positioned herself in the center. Without warning, she raised her weapon with sudden speed, an arrow of ice forming as she let the projectile fly clean into the air and through a speckled leaf. Not a moment was wasted as she quickly pivoted on her heel, letting loose another arrow.
Steps resounded in the familiar halls. A single, steady beat in an otherwise quiet scene. It was almost serene. Many slept within these marble halls; hundreds guarded their eternal denizens. Intense magic was weaved and thrown about almost casually- the very essence of this structure bathed in their alluring glow. This place. What was once touted as the pinnacle of peace. A way to resolve the never-ending wars that plagued Valoran. A way to retain the unity that had long eluded our lands. A way to face whatever the future may throw at us, not segmented but as a single fighting force. Bullshit, really. Between recent events and the fact that one of the three vanished almost immediately after the concept’s birth? What had they actually accomplished? Fighting was nothing more than a means to an end. A way to prove one’s strength. She stopped. Pausing and swirling ninety degrees, crimson strands fluttered- wrapping along the woman’s form as she looked up to a majestic statue. Who was it again? Ah. The grand sorcerer who pioneered the first vestiges of Summoning magic and made this all possible. The beard gave it away. It wouldn’t be far from here. She began walking again… slower; silent footfalls as she stalked towards the next statue. She’d always recognize this one. The frail old pervert who devoted his life’s research to semi- sentient constructs. Automated creatures enslaved to the caster with whom they had created a pact; more often than not their creator. Fitting, really. The scandal had largely been kept from public ears but anyone part of anything important had already heard of the perverse acts that had led to his demise. She sighed, waiting a moment before her lips parted.
“An excellent match earlier, no?”
A somewhat raspy voice responded moments after an audible thump and a surprised gasp.
“Forever Strong.”
What was once a man’s visage contorted into an almost demonic expression; the creature’s maw opening and falling almost all the way to the floor in a slow descent. The gaping mouth expanded further, almost having replaced the entirety of the statue as magical torches lit the hidden passageway beyond.
She smiled, brushing a few strands of her crimson hair out of her face as shimmering green orbs inspected the man. The familiar Summoner’s Regalia hanging off his thin frame didn’t seem to fit… but that wasn’t the only thing. It was like this all over the Institute. There were those who believed with all their hearts that this new organization was it. That this was the one… and there were others who bowed to the Institute merely as a gesture; still serving their former Masters. Peace? Unity? How could the Institute demand such things while even their own organization did not respect their own commandments?
The Champion bowed her head. Her fellow Noxian did the same as she resumed a brisk pace. The light streaming into the dark passageway was quenched as the statue returned to its former shape; only the eerie green glow of magic lighting her way. Her thoughts returned to that of her latest match. As much as she absolutely deplored the Demacians and essentially everything they stood for; she had to admit they were strong. It was somewhat awkward facing down Ionians alongside the strongest of her most ancient enemies, to say the least. She exhaled softly, eyes adjusting to the rising sun as she absent mindedly opened the concealed exit. The overgrown surroundings were navigated with ease as she wondered to herself how the Blue and Gold managed to devolve to such a pitiful society? They had the strength and those who managed to prove it were promoted to the right place; yet they reject the Noxian way? They were essentially on the same path albeit in some ridiculous roundabout way that simply failed to make any se-
Katarina stopped.
She ran her tongue along her lower lip, dampening the lightly painted muscle as she all but melded into the shadows. The light breeze tickled, her heart thumping as her trained senses screamed at her. She was not a tracker. She was not a hunter. She was an assassin. She knew not the individual signs, but even a fool would recognize such a blatant message. The unnatural quiet as animals retreated to watch those who would breach the sanctity of their home. Failure to read nature’s responses more often lead to the demise of green assassins than anything else. She had enough practice erasing her presence than to evoke such a great reaction. It definitely had to be someone else.
Trained fingers gripped the hilt of her blade as she continued forward with greater care. This area was technically under the Institute’s watch… but not even their watchful sentries were immaculate. Perhaps she could get away with a clean kill on an unwary Summoner. She needed more data. The glimmer of steel as her sword was drawn, a gloved hand resting at first on the blade guard and trailing slowly down the fuller- only two fingers remained as she slid her digits down the length of her weapon. The point threatened to penetrate the tip of her leather glove as she reached the end of the razor edge. Sounds. She was close… What was it? What was she stalking? What was her prey? Her teeth ran gently along her lips as they curved into a rather sadistic smile.
The blade cut through the air as she adjusted her grip, her free hand drawing a pair of daggers as she vanished in a puff of smoke; leaves rustling ever so quietly from the disturbance. A somewhat muted landing despite the environment, leather boots pressing against the soft soil; her back leaning against the trunk of yet another of the many overgrown trees that populated the area. She exhaled again, the moisture from her breath condensing into a light fog; the telltale twang of a bowstring. The thump of an arrow hitting its mark. The goose bumps that had developed on her toned stomach from the sudden shift in temperature. This familiar sensation… Katarina hesitated for a moment. Why was /she/ here? The Noxian furrowed her brows for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot before a playful expression crept into her face. She gripped the hilt of her weapon a little harder as she left the cover of the foliage, preparing to dash towards the Queen when she was instead greeted by a shimmering bolt. Had she been too loud? Impossible. Perhaps that familiar she kept around for some unknown reason decided it was time to finally serve some purpose. The arrow ever so slightly grazed her shoulder, etching its mark in her ornately decorated armour. There was little pain beyond the blunt impact, her protective garment doing its job in redirecting most of the force of the blow- but that was enough for damage assessment. She threw the daggers towards her mark before planting her blade into the ground. The chilling effect of the Archer’s blows were more than evident, her sword cutting a light trail into the ground as she used it to shift her momentum; dashing sideways with a tumble back into the thicket. The assassin sprinted in an arc, letting her surroundings act as a temporary shield as she rounded towards Ashe; stalling to regain full muscle control before striking once more- two more daggers already having been drawn by the time the women once again entered each other’s field of vision.
Last Edit: Mar 10, 2013 20:38:41 GMT -5 by katarina
As she let each arrow fly, she attached a thought to it. Memories which she hoped to keep flew into the thicket, the small twigs she had set up being hit one after the other. Feelings which she had purposefully ignored, thumping their way through the golden brown leaves. They were not moving targets, though Ashe refused to use animals for practice. It was in uninterrupted moments like these where every action felt fluid and composed. Even if her composure was there, much of her movements were methodical. She had done this so many times before, it was almost like a song to her. A song playing on a string of one, the soothing twang of the bow and the satisfaction when it hit her target. Who knows when she would get a chance like this again.
Freljord didn't have a place where one could practice their survival skills. If you got lost in the icy tundras, then you only had yourself to blame and yourself to rely on. At the same time, you could never truly be ready for what dangers awaited you in the mass of ice and snow. She remembered the Gelid Vortex - how they were so prepared, yet they had been taken off guard. How the countless pins of stars had blinked at her from the far reaches of a blackened sky. She likened it to the tree she was currently facing, with countless grains swimming before her vision. It had been suffocating to lie there, when all had been said and done and the screams had continued to echo through her ears. It had hurt to breathe, and it hurt even more to cry.
Ashe shook her head. That had been the last time she had allowed tears to fall so freely. It haunted her, knowing that she had survived simply because someone higher had deemed it so. Did it mean that, in all their powerful glory, they had condemned her friends to die? A few more arrows were fired rapidly into the trunk, her concentration teetering as she continued to recall. A heavy sigh escaped her. There was no point in wondering on that - it was only in death could she contemplate as much as she wanted, but she did not plan to die. Not until she had fulfilled the promise she made to her people, who deserved freedom and peace just as much as the next Runeterran. She arched her bow, aiming an arrowhead at the treetops but a sudden sensation stopped her.
The Frost Archer's keen ears picked up a sound, but it was faint. She could have passed it off as a small animal scurrying back into its burrow, but the Frost Archer had been the target of too many assassinations to be so careless. She gave no sign that she had heard the imbalance, but she did aim her bow and release a frost-tipped projectile into the direction of the sound. What returned was a miniscule screech, then a dull whistle through the air and the Archer quickly ducked low. Whatever had been thrown at her shot right above her, embedding themselves into a trunk behind. Her arrow had only grazed her target, but that would have been more than enough for the frost to take effect.
The intruder was louder now, no longer attempting to conceal their presence as she gritted her teeth. Though the Institute's borders were safe enough, they normally didn't consider the forest as a part of their League. But she did not need their help. Another arrow was nocked, the string taut and ready as she stood up slowly. Rustles all around her - whoever it was, they were fast. A loud disturbance was heard to the left, and Ashe's gaze quickly snapped over just as a figure burst from the brush with daggers at hand. The pose, the look, the aura... it was not unfamiliar to her, but the Freljordian did not blanch. Instead, she tilted her bow towards the assassin. The arrow shimmered, its point wavering. Five birds with one stone.
"Can you not, for one day, control your lust for blood?" Ashe called, though her voice was wary. Though she knew she could dodge Katarina's daggers with ease, it was a lot more difficult to hit a target that could disappear in smoke. But after such memories had come to push at her mind, she did not feel much like dealing with the Noxian. Her posture, however, was the epitome of calm and collected, though anyone could see the edge in her icy blue eyes.
[[For wish you require more hugs. At least four.]]
The assassin smirked as she caught sight of the Queen once again. Her prey dodged. It wouldn’t be fun if she didn’t. She wouldn’t be worthy of being labeled as prey. She would simply be another target to be crossed off on a checklist, another pathetic being blotted out in survival of the fittest. Well. It would also be a problem if she actually sustained much… lasting damage. League Champion, Queen of Freljord and all. Her eyes wandered along the woman’s form, the thigh high boots; the skirt that seemed almost indecent. She spun, the knives leaving her hand as she allowed herself a lingering stare. Toned muscles were to be expected, considering her role, but the luxurious hair was not. How /did/ she maintain her hair considering the terror of her abysmal surroundings? She was always yelled at while her servants and sisters pampered her crimson locks. Their nagging voices almost completely filtered out as she enjoyed the sensation of having her hair combed. Perhaps she should ask her sometime. Oh hey, just fighting the hardest we can against the opposing team for king and country, what do you do to your hair? Hah. The woman left her field of vision yet again, her hand letting go of her sword and her other catching the hilt- her now freed digits reaching for more of the shorter knives.
Her boot hit the ground, somersaulting forward; the blade of her sword cutting through the air- long red strands fluttering after the leather clad assassin. She grabbed the kunai, the hilts between her digits; preparing to toss her next volley. Her smile only grew wider as the woman called out to her. Why was she doing this anyway? There was just something about the thrill of the hunt. It was almost intoxicating. Yet, she had self control. Well, she had thought she did anyway. There was something about the little archer. It was… tantalizing. She just seemed so frail, so vulnerable. Yet, she held her own. Katarina’s teeth slid along her painted lips, a glimmer in her emerald spheres. The way she behaved ever so regally and still maintained a wild streak. The assassin spun faster, her other foot too hitting the ground- the weight leaving her hand as two more blades spun through the cool morning. The metal flickered, reflecting the sunlight as they danced towards Ashe. She aimed to kill, confident in her little toy’s abilities to evade. Her lips parted even as she began to run forward.
“Lust for blood? Please.”
She scoffed. The green orbs vanished before a wave of crimson for just a moment. The assassin almost seemed to stop moving when the image all but vanished- a puff of smoke all that remained of the Noxian. Her gloved hand grasped one of the many branches that stretched out and intertwined with one another high over their head. The continued momentum took her along the living wood- bark breaking off to the force as she found herself midair yet again. The cat outfit, however humiliating it was to prance about in, was fitting to some degree. She always landed on her feet. She reached for the other sword strapped to her back. Something about Ashe was particularly appealing today. Perhaps her eyes. They seemed, different somehow. Helpless, almost, despite her calm posture.
“There are other things worth lusting for.”
The words weren’t just aggressive and assertive as per her usual; they were tainted with an almost sensual, teasing tone. She found herself falling forward, towards the archer. The wind whistled in her ears, her heart beating faster and faster. She knew in the back of her mind that she should have waited a little longer. Shunpo was a difficult trick, hard to chain and nearly impossible without the proper footing. Yet, she didn’t particularly seem to care. Living life on the edge, taking unnecessary risks. It was unlike her, yet filled her with pleasure. She got it. The reason. Why Ashe was special.
She wished, simply, to break the girl.
Last Edit: Mar 25, 2013 0:49:14 GMT -5 by katarina
Ashe watched the blur cross her vision, streaking red and black as the brush barely whispered its disturbance. She stood, a calm breath escaping her lips but she knew the assassin was out there, and she could feel the intensity. Her bow was raised, an arrow nocked and the string drawn slightly, but she would use her weapon for defense. If Katarina wished to play so rough, Ashe would not stand for it though she knew the consequences of harming a fellow League Champion. Even if the assassin herself did not seem as aware of it. The sharp woosh of air was the cut of silence, and her eyes narrowed. Another arrow shimmered into existence, her fingers moving to accommodate the extra weight. The tips were glittering crystal, sharp to the point and freezing to the touch - to anyone but her. Ashe shook her head, her white hair falling down her shoulders and the gentle dip of her back, her blue-tinted gaze following the movements that circled her. A thump, and the image was once more visualized and the fierce whistle signaled yet another attack.
The initial surprise had long since faded, and the archer was prepared for the daggers that streaked towards her. She pivoted to her side, her cloak fluttering slightly as the projectiles skimmed her pale locks, slamming into the metal already imbedded in the tree bark behind her. They fell to the ground with a clatter, one after the other. It was a game to Katarina, the Freljordian Queen knew this. The blades, however malicious, did not seek to play tricks on her mind. It was a simple minded curiosity and Ashe would not be surprised if Katarina followed with dagger after dagger. She expected it, even. So it was to her surprise when the almost mocking voice of the red-headed Noxian shot out almost as fast as her weapons. Ashe only caught a glimpse of the figure at the standstill, the words passing by without importance as the other female seemed to simply disappear into thin air. But the Frost Archer had seen this trick one too many times.
She wasn't so concerned with the move itself, rather how it actually worked outside the Fields. Of course, she had an idea, but the way it was done was so... undoubtedly fluid. Ashe inhaled deeply, her eyes settling shut. She drew the sounds all around into a single area, the soft chirp of the birds yet to return to their nest, the crickets rubbing their legs together gently and the soft rustle of the trees. But there was something wrong. Her eyes opened - it had only been a span of a few seconds - the dark skin of nature fluttered to the forest floor, the rough surface sloughed violently and Ashe realized that Katarina didn't mean to hide. The same voice called out to her, and her brow dipped in unbidden confusion. Katarina's tone seemed... almost salicious in nature now, something Ashe wasn't quite certain of. Yet if anything, her grip on the bow tightened, her shoulders tense as she pressed her lips together tightly. There was no point in responding to such a provocative statement. She had nothing to answer to.
The tip of her arrow pointed up, at the trees that held the predator and Ashe could see the glint of the blade against the crystallised reflection. But she had misjudged. As Katarina pushed herself into the open, she saw that the assassin was further up than she had anticipated. The smoke had disorientated her, the speed of the climb unexpected and Ashe felt her eyes widen as Katarina's figure free-fell, the blade pressed forward to surely slit her throat. Her heart thudded once, near painful, and her fingers released its grip on the arrow, the icy projectile flying its way straight for Katarina's neck. Ashe did not wait to see if her projectile had hit, her only thought was to remove herself from the danger. But her stumble, her mistake, brought the first tingle of despair and she knew it was too late. Ashe simply brought her bow up to block the blow of the blade, knowing that the weapon would be able to take the hit, bracing herself for either the impact of the corpse of an assassin, or the wrath of a Noxian wrapped up in the notion of blood.
Trained emeralds followed the archer’s every move. Dodge? Impossible. Time almost seemed to slow down, the two combatants helpless but to follow through with the consequences of their actions. The nocked arrow turning and pointing up towards her. Her hair fluttering in the parting wind. Katarina’s body almost instinctively reacted to its partner in their waltz of death; slashing forward with her newly drawn blade. Water splattered, Katarina flinching ever so slightly as liquid splattered against her face. Ice shimmered, flecks breaking off the primary arrow as the pressure liquefied a slice of the magical ice. A moment of frustration shimmered on the assassin’s visage. Her timing was off. Was it because of the careless free fall? She tilted her head away from the projected point of impact; her blow only barely parrying the Frost Archer’s strike- the sharpened ice tearing through the leather around her shoulder. The belt was shredded like paper, the Noxian vaguely aware of the ornate spaulder falling away from her form. Her skin tingled as the frost afflicted its curse upon the assassin. The unnatural cold spreading throughout her body as her breath congealed before her soft lips. Lips that once again curved into a smile.
This was it. This was what she wanted. This sensation. The danger. The thrill. The ecstasy. Her eyes glinted, letting the parrying blade fall away with the discarded armour piece. Her other blade cut down towards her prey. She wasn’t sure if the woman would be able to block until the bow reoriented itself defensively, but at this point she didn’t particularly care either for that matter.
Sparks flew as Noxian silver crashed into the enchanted ice. Her hair cascaded forward, crimson locks blocking her vision for a moment- yet sight wasn’t exactly necessary at this point. Years of training, experience guided her path. She tilted the blade, grinding it down along the weapon as her free hand made contact with the bow. The gloved hand slipped a few inches before grasping it tightly, attempting to use it as a hold to shift her weight. Katarina stared at where she knew azure was likely staring back at her, the green contrasting heavily with the waves of red. What was an archer without her bow? The plan had already formulated in her mind the moment the enchanted weapon was brought up to evade. The sword had barely left the length when the assassin kicked forward with her remaining momentum- aiming not towards the Queen of Freljord but the top of the tilted bow.
Her eyes broke their illusory contact; widening in surprise. Flinching heavily as she glanced towards the source. Impossible- what was… She had never heard… Her gloved hand slipped, forced to release the crystalline weapon as a searing pain shot through her arm. Her eyes watered ever so slightly, furrowing her brows as she steeled her mind. This was not a projected conclusion; this possibility had not even occurred to her. Ashe had played a card she had not expected and she could only wait for the conclusion of her metaphorical turn. It was apparent to both of them that the League was quite... restrictive, to say the least when it came to Champions and their talents. Not to mention the desire to hide one's trump cards from prying eyes. Was it truly smart to parade one's skills in front of one's most hated enemies? To give one's enemy enough study material to write a text on how to do battle with each city state's champions? It made perfect sense that such a thing would have been hidden from her. Nevertheless... How had she not seen it coming? It was bloody made of ice. Katarina never liked toying with the mystical arts. She cursed, her hand turning; the blade cutting a path through the air as it sliced; evading her other slipping hand. She had already swung her body, shifted her momentum. She was quite literally forced to follow through with her kick despite her poor foothold. One that left her nearly flailing in a borderline amateurish way. The blade penetrated the ground, giving her at least one grip. Her glove had been torn off of her hand, only glancing at it momentarily before reaching back towards an armament pouch strapped to her waist. Senseless battle and fighting purely for the sake of fighting itself was what she entered this duel thinking. The possibility that she could find herself in such a situation hadn’t even occurred to her. The possibility of even losing to the Frost Archer was unthinkable. A glimmer of cold sweat appeared on her brow. She had done all she could.
Regardless of how sloppy it was… it was still a check. Now… answer my call- show me the skill passed down the Averosa's lineage. Strike back with the fury of Freljord so that I may crush even that. Respond with the greatest of your arsenal, so that I may show you the futility of your actions. Resist, so that I may shatter your defenses. Dance with me. If you were incapable of such you wouldn’t be worthy of my attentions… Ashe... let's make this fun~
Last Edit: Apr 19, 2013 3:27:03 GMT -5 by katarina
As the Archer thrust her bow upwards, the sound of a chill frosted her senses and Ashe could not help but lift her eyes up to meet the assassin's head on. Miniature shards of ice flew past the red-headed female before ripping through the clothing but it seemed as if Katarina didn't care. Ashe knew that her arrow had served its purpose well enough as she watched the woman exhale breaths of mist into the chilled air. Her fingers gripped her weapon harder still when the expression reached her - years of assassins, and none have come for her with a face that showed nothing but pleasure at what they did. Killing for the sake of killing, blood simply because red was their favorite color and they needed it. Ashe was not about to ask why Katarina was here, or who had sent her because no-one could be that foolish. Still, the mask was ripped clean away and the Frost Archer was proffered the gaze of someone who sought their everything in the poison in their steel.
She was rocked from her very thoughts as the harsh vibration of collision trembled through her frame. One blade, one bow and had Ashe been ill prepared, she would have collapsed from the weight of the fall and the ferocity in which Katarina struck. The dark edge of the blade seemed to shear the surface of her weapon as it slipped down. Dark red hair whipped forward, concealing the wicked smirk and clearing Ashe's head well enough for her to respond to the way Katarina's hand gripped her weapon, like a sailor would grasp their ship's mast during a storm. Her other hand shot up just as the assassin's hand ripped downwards and suddenly, Katarina was all too close. A millisecond passed, and something unknown burned her heart but the flicker was snuffed as quickly as it had flickered. The sword had imbedded itself into the ground, the earthy thunk earlier was evidence of that and Ashe was minutely aware of what was going to happen. The other's form rippled in the air, twisting backwards and pivoting through the clean air gracelessly as the Sinister Blade found herself paying the price for such crude contact.
Ashe could only feel moderate pity - enough for her to not smile at the Blade's misfortune. She too had felt the blinding agony, the way the cold had rendered her limbs immobile, even if it had been for only a mere second. It had been blisteringly cold, and the Archer almost seemed to flinch as if she could hear the hiss of frost burning through the assassin's gloved hand and into the flesh below. Time seemed to slow down as the blade was used as a pole to spin the assassin around and the Archer found herself watching a leg lashing straight for her. A soft cry of surprise spilled from her lips as she recoiled back, steps grinding the grass beneath her boots as she maneuvered herself backwards. The blow had clipped the edge of her bow, the salts of frost peppering the ground.
Before Katarina would have any time to react between the time of her flow and land, Ashe's eyes glowed a lighter blue as a frosty arrow was shot towards the assassin. It would land just in front of the sword, the point burying into the soil as the hard ice glinted. It was a simple warning. Katarina had touched her bow, and she had felt the pain of Freljordian ice - and even so, the cold was not even it's final form close to what Ashe was capable of conjuring up. She made sure her gaze was locked onto the feline figure before her. She knew what Katarina had, but as she did, the assassin had her secrets too. She drew her bow again, this time willing not one, but five crystalline arrows into her grasp. The Noxian had caught her off guard, but as she aimed the jagged points towards her red-headed attacker, she found her breaths coming slow and easy.
Then her words began to flow, and even if Katarina was not willing to listen, she still spoke. "Do not be so blind to think you can take me so easily," firm yet mildly condescending. The regality she normally held when she spoke as Freljord's Queen was but a mere echo. Ashe spoke as a seasoned hunter who had seen more than most. With her mother's death, she was suddenly looked at for guidance and some looked to take her life. That paranoia would stay with her until her dying days, but Ashe knew it was a necessity. It wasn't about winning or losing in the icy tundras - surviving was victory enough, and that was a philosophy many of her people held. It was unfortunate that there were still many others who thought themselves heroes by throwing their lives away.
"You may be a killer, but I've dealt with worse than you." Her words were clipped as the memories of the Vortex reached for her with a blackness that threatened to tear her down. But as always, she held herself up. Katarina was nothing. The Noxian sought to take precious life for her own amusement and once again, Ashe felt pity welling up - but for a different reason this time around. It was humanity. That was life. Ashe shook her head with nothing more to say. Her eyes were wary and her shoulders were tense but her arms were strong and her fingers were steady, holding the arrows in place. So much as a twitch, and they would find themselves loose to seek their targets.
The arctic breeze stung, red seemingly bleeding from her hair and onto her pale skin as a light flush graced her cheeks. Katarina attempted to regain control of her unruly digits, gritting her teeth as she weathered through the dull, thudding pain; fumbling within her packs. The shimmering azure mist should have given away that something was amiss. Pain was one thing, a few cuts another, but frostbite? That was much less amusing. It limited her movements- detracting from the exhilaration of war rather than building upon the euphoria of mindless violence. A jolt of agony shot through her arm, the assassin wincing as she found what she sought- the cool metal warm to her touch. It would only be a moment longer. She /was/ thankful of one thing though. In any other situation the debilitating blow would potentially have stunned her and ended the fight then and there- gravity, fortunately, was on her side. She inhaled, the cool hair filling her lungs through clenched teeth.
The kick followed through. The blow had connected with something- the target giving away after but a moment; preserving enough speed to make a complete turn. The now almost unnervingly familiar sensation of coming into contact with the enchanted ice indicated to her exactly what she had struck. Frost crept onto the metal outsole, the boot hitting the ground followed shortly by the other. The knife previously used as a foothold had shifted together with her weight and center of gravity. Rather than being pushed further into the soil, it had turned and began cutting horizontally; breaking out of the ground with a shower of dirt as she completed her rather inelegant landing.
Katarina momentarily assessed the situation before she had fully made contact with the ground, having retrieved her blade purely by instinct. Her crimson hair still fluttering about- obscuring her vision as the garnet strands settled from the recent flight. Fumbling fingers managed to dispose of what seemed to be a simple cloth, the brown linen falling onto the ground together with a few drops of liquid. The red fluid quickly permeating along the now dirtied linen. From such a position, with both feet so close and her center of gravity still far from stable- the whistle of an arrow cutting through the air pushed her onto the only course of action that involved something other than remaining still. Hardened leather pushed off against the soil, kicking up dust as she dashed towards the Frost Archer. The concept of a feint or warning shot hadn’t even occurred to her as the arrow grazed the side of her contorting form. The frost shot severing one of the numerous belts around the assassin’s waist and taking with it some of the black leather previously pulled taut about her hips. The frost spread quickly- radiating forth from her wound as the assassin found herself bound by the inhibiting curse yet again. She spun, mid forward dash. A foot coming forward to quell her momentum and shift it in the opposite direction- her other joining the former within moments as the redhead pulled a quick one eighty and vanished in a puff of smoke- leaving behind but the dust and soil she had uprooted with her footwork.
A brief moment of silence as the redhead reappeared just outside of the tree line’s shadow. Her face partially concealed by the darkness. Green, burning orbs lit up once more as she stared towards the archer. She assessed the damage, taking inventory of her situation. The gloveless hand just barely concealed from Ashe a hiltless blade- one now coated in her own blood. The physical damage she had taken was insignificant. Barely even capable of being considered flesh wounds- scarcely breaking her skin, if at all. She wasn’t sure whether it was the anesthetic taking effect or perhaps the shock of the initial sensation throwing things off- but what she was once worried potentially being third or fourth degree frostbite now seemed only superficial at worst. The woman’s voice shattered the otherwise eerie serenity that had befallen the scene. The two combatants separated once more- split apart by the same distance as when they had first initiated their little soiree.
The assassin furrowed her brows, the previous stare turning into more of a glare as the woman spoke- the blade in her hand cutting deeper into her flesh. The adrenaline pumping through her veins did little to let up. If anything, she felt her heart rate increase as anger joined the previous concoction of emotions running rampant. The way she so confidently berated her. The way the archer, of the same generation no less, metaphorically looked down at her. The way she spoke with the arrows notched and ready. The tone of her voice- the contempt and pity just oozing from every word. She hated it. She absolutely abhorred it. Ashe was royalty. Was that why? Was it because she had managed to score not one, but two hits on the assassin? She growled as she raised her head ever so slightly, a deep rumble emanating from her throat as she all but snarled. The rage bubbled up and spilled- the irritation so intense that words no longer expressed her feelings as she laughed. Crimson strands cleared the way from her field of vision as Katarina just laughed- her hair cascading down her back as her chest heaved. A bought of laughter that shifted seamlessly to tread within the bounds of the manic as the green orbs refocused onto the Queen of Freljord.
“Dealt with worse?”
She exhaled through her mouth, breathing in almost immediately after as she took a step forward.
“Dealt with worse?”
She repeated, louder, more angrily. Yet another was looking down on her. Scolding her. She stared into the cerulean that replied in kind. Challenging she who ruled over the icy wastelands.
“Such a presumptuous tone. You think of me as all the others who have come after your life? Oh, mighty Queen of Freljord. You think lowly of me because I am but one assailant among the many who have attempted to usurp your throne?”
She flipped the knife coated in her own blood up to her face- her own expression unchanging as she held the blade between her index and middle fingers- balancing the blade precariously. It wasn’t Ashe’s words that danced through her mind. It was that of the commanding officer when she failed her charge. The mocking words from others who had trained under the tutelage of her father. The shame and anger she locked away. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly as she regained her composure. It was folly to expose herself in such a vulnerable way before a foe- but her opponent was Ashe. Although her words were not questions, they were statements that sought a response. Regardless. Katarina should be thankful, really. The frost had faded together with the last of her self restraint in the time she had stalled. Her lips curled into a smile as emeralds shimmered back into existence behind the dripping blade. It was less of a weapon than it was a quick, somewhat crass, way to introduce a healing, numbing agent to a wound.
Her fingers shifted- the blade spinning as it was launched into the air above her. Katarina raised her sword, pointing it straight at Ashe before cutting horizontally- spinning two hundred and seventy degrees before vanishing in a cloud of dust.
She reappeared just past the Frost Archer- their faces only moments from one another. Katarina’s eyes caught a glimpse of azure even while the cutting knife tore forward from behind her mark; completing the four hundred and eighty degree spin with a flourish. Her free hand, bathed in her own blood, reached for her armament pouch once more- securing the hilts of various blades between her fingers as she turned her sword. Stabbing back around and cutting in an arc opposite to her initial cut- taking advantage of the excess energy to flip forward towards the white haired woman- blades leaving her bloodied hand wish a flash of violet luminescence.
Violence solved everything. It defeated her enemies. It shoved aside thoughts of her faults, her insecurities. Thoughts of her father. The patriarch she would never surpass.
Violence solved everything. Violence, too, would subjugate this white haired harlot. With it, at least ephemerally, extinguish the uncertainty that plagued her mind.
Last Edit: May 28, 2013 22:34:26 GMT -5 by katarina
If there was ever a time where her thoughts did not match up to the situation, now would be one of them. Katarina's quick motions in the air, the graceful turns and graceless falls - the Noxian would have made a great dancer, if she hadn't preferred the touch of a blade to that of another person. The earthy dirt that was kicked up sprayed forth, trickling across the ground like a glass of wine finely spilled. Whilst her words were being spoken, Ashe's eyes never wavered. She did not have the eyes of a hawk, but she could sense danger like no other. Her arrows remained poised in her grip, tendrils of frosty mist curling around her wrist and weapon, the sharpened points gleaming. On the ground, in the corner of her eye, she could see a piece of fabric folded upon itself and drowning in crimson. Her arrows rarely missed their mark, and indeed her goal was not to imprison the woman in ice - yet the assassin was fast, barely scraping past her shots.
Her stance shifted cautiously, sliding against the malleable dirt. She lifted her bow a little higher. Ashe could see Katarina now after her pivot in the air. That provocative predator didn't even bother hiding within the tree's heavy foliage. The forest was a cage, but whether or not she was the prey was not a question she would answer so quickly. She could see the streaks of red mingled with the icy touch of Freljord case the assassin's wounds and most of all, she could see the way her words had affected the woman. There was so much she could see, and that was all she needed. The harsh draw of the other's brow, the whitening of the knuckles and the way the red-head's lips curled into a carnivorous growl. There was nothing more dangerous than an animal who was both cornered and angered. It took all of her willpower to stop herself from releasing her volley when Katarina let out a barking laugh, both aggravating and sharp. Her hands clenched around her bow a little tighter as the assassin responded.
Again, the little pinch of pity flowed. The girl was insane. Royalty was not the picture, not the regret she lived with. Her life was not a toy to be passed around, her title not a game to be bet against. The Institute had made a mockery of her city, the strife that surrounded it openly displayed like a trophy for the taking. Ashe bit her lower lip, forcing the heavy breaths to come a little slower - she would not let this petty killer get to her. Katarina's behaviour was completely crude, and it was unavoidable. Noxus was not her first choice should she ever raise a child. They would grow up believing death was the only choice if they were not better. She could hear the disgust in her pursuer's voice, the hatred that lingered after every syllable like a poison that refused to drip away. It seemed to empower Katarina, in fact.
The blade that was held up caused the archer to tense up once more, waiting for the point to fly. But it never came. The assassin merely stood there, as if mesmerized by the glint of the cold steel, breathing just as she had done not moments before. This was not a game. It was not a spar, it was not a warning. This was what Katarina lived for, and this is what Ashe despised. Her visage flickered, a frown appearing on her face as the knife was thrown straight up - her first mistake was following the motion, and her second was landing her eyes back on Katarina a second too late. The figure vanished from her spot once more, another one of her tricks, and somehow Ashe could feel the blurred presence reappear behind her. She cursed to herself softly. They were both fleet of foot, rabbits forced to fight for one reason or another. She was not the predator, nor was the assassin. They were locked, bound and restrained by their own demons.
The closeness of Katarina's burning eyes unnerved her, and she could see the sadistic mouth bared, her face tight as those pupils dilated. The arrows nocked melted in her hands, shimmering away into nothing as Ashe twirled her weapon and thrust it beneath her arm, slamming the end of her bow against the form behind her just as she felt the ghostly hiss of a sword clutch at the back of her neck desperately. It was gone all too soon, and the scream of a blade met her ears once more. Ashe pulled forward, almost stumbling as she felt Katarina's weapon cut through her fluttering cloak and - almost in slow motion - the tip grazing her back, breaking through the material barely before she escaped its final embrace.
The Archer whipped around as she heard the high pitched whistle of blades pierce the air around her, ducking immediately as she felt the steel slice through the skin of her cheek. Ashe staggered briefly, but she did not cry out; the pain was shock inducing. The cold bit into her skin as a sharp numbness began to blossom red from her weeping wound. Another dagger had grazed her shoulder, tearing the fabric from them but she managed to avoid the worst of the worst. Her fingers touched the blood, feeling the liquid drip against the tips. It wasn't fatal, but it was deeper than she would have thought. She clicked her tongue softly, feeling something wet run down her back in unison. "Have it your way then." Blood for blood. The Avarosan were not bitter people by nature, but they were only human after all. Katarina wanted to dance, Ashe would respond in kind. If the assassin wanted to play with life so desperately, who was she to deny her the craving? The Institute would surely understand.
Ashe gripped her weapon with one hand, lifting the other to her mouth. She murmured something beneath her breath, a frosty mist beginning to form in her cupped palm. As she opened her eyes, the magic grew ever stronger, the ice running through her veins and given life. A bird made of true ice, wings of sharp frost molded into jagged points. It lifted from her hand - it was small, and it was deadly. She did not expect the avian to kill, but it would shatter upon contact, and the ice would encase whatever it touched. Katarina knew this - or at least, the Arched hoped she did, for whilst she did not quite know why, she did not want to shatter the woman's body. A single word uttered from her mouth sent her animated sculpture tearing through the air, its wings perfectly still as it angled straight towards the assassin.
Even before the bird had begun, Ashe was already beginning to form more, three seconds and another was sent straight after the first, this time from another direction. A feast for crows. Her ice magic was not yet refined to the point where she could fight Katarina head on with it, but in her other hand, the one currently at her side, she had begun to form a shard to mold as a dagger. If it came to that... her bow would not be of much use, but she had seen that Katarina was not so unaffected by the bite of Freljord's Winter.
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.
Maelstrom was created by Swain. Written content is copyrighted to their creators on this site. The skin is created by Wolf and mini-profile template by Kuroya of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited by Rurin. League of Legends is owned by Riot Games. Maelstrom does not claim ownership to any images used unless stated otherwise.
cbox
Chat box has been removed for the time being. Please contact me at Wyerden@gmail.com, or skype name DearCryophoenix with for any questions or concerns.
