A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

The Grand General's smirk broadened as Rengar made his fierce proclamation. "A hunt you want?" He stood to punctuate the pivotal word, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in a grimace as he got to his feet. Cane in hand, he took a few crooked steps towards the Pridestalker, his eyes alight with purpose. Beatrice rearranged her wings uneasily atop his shoulder.

"I can give you a hunt, Rengar. I can give you more than a hunt." Drawing nigh, he sunk his cane into the carpet between them and folded his hands over it, his chin held high as he looked up into the hulking hunter's face and stated his offer. "The heads of this world's greatest warriors--and why stop with this world? Kha'Zix is not the strongest of his kind, and already the Void marches on Freljord."

He grit his teeth behind his shroud as the sheer scope of impending war flashed in his mind, in the fires of his crimson eyes. "Kha'Zix is but a cricket when compared with the Void's true might. Get me the Voidreaver and I will find you a challenge worth your while. You have my word."

"He will remain intact," the Grand General spoke evenly, though the flames in his crimson eyes grew more fervent upon Rengar's apparent acceptance of his terms. The slightest smirk crinkled his lined face at the Pridestalker's inquiry. "Research," he answered. "Living samples."

Swain lifted a gnarled hand as he spoke, one finger extended to punctuate his adage. "The first step in overcoming an opponent is to know it fully, to understand its methods and capacity, to be able to predict its movements before it makes them." He paced a few steps to the side, leaning heavily on his cane. Now an equal distance before the Pridestalker and the Blood Hunter, he motioned for one of his standing guard to approach, indicating a black box that lay upon his desk.

The Raedsel approached, his strides perfectly measured. He took the box from the table and drew back the lid, presenting its contents to the hunters. Inside lay a scouter, designed to be worn over one anthropomorphic ear. It would fit either mercenary well. Swain cleared his throat and began to elaborate:

"We have been tracking Void movements ever since Cho'Gath's escape. Energy signatures fluctuate in correlation with Void presence and linger for some days after initial materialization." He paused, tonguing the space between his molars as he prepared to continue his instruction. "I won't bore you with the science. That piece of equipment will roughly calculate the time since detected energy signatures originated: more accurate and reliable than scent tracking." The Grand General's jaw flexed; aching teeth pressed together against the gravity of the situation. If the hunters succeeded, his own plans would flourish. If they failed, if they misstepped, all could be for naught... "Void energy levels are currently increasing in northern Ionia--where I happen to have a standing occupation. You will begin your search there."

Blazing eyes flickered over Rengar. It was a pleasant surprise that the Pridestalker, at least in word, had enough forebearance to postpone his slaughter of the Voidreaver long enough to allow for Singed's study to take place. "I must impress upon you again the importance of our subject reaching the Chemist alive. Just as you place value upon him emerging 'unspoiled' from the laboratory. Keep your word to me, Rengar, and I shall keep mine."

A chuckle escaped the Grand General: harsh, as was his way. "I beg your pardon," he said, sarcasm palpable in his glowing gaze as it washed over Warwick. He raised his brows. "To help you?" Swain smiled politely. He paused, pursed his lips, flicked his gaze up towards the ceiling as though thinking. An absentminded hum escaped him.

Abruptly, after a few moments in the silence of his affected pondering, the smile melted from his face. His luminous gaze flashed over Warwick once more, crimson eyes affixing upon crimson. "Friendly lands upon which to dock and begin your hunt." He took a crooked step forward to punctuate his words. "A fleet of shadow ninjas. Several hundred summoners." Another step. "Two demi-gods. State of the art Zaunite technology. The largest and most capable military force in Valoran."

Blazing eyes narrowed. An aura of furious power swirled about Swain as he spoke, dark energy adding weight to his words. The strange sensation of crackling static electricity spread through the room, causing the fur of the two mercenaries to stand on end. For one tension-filled moment, the only noise in the office was the rushing sound of power--but then, as though nothing had happened, the aura evaporated, and Swain stood as wan and hunched as ever at his original distance from his guests.

Had that rushing sound, that lightheadedness, been a construct of imagination? Nothing more than vertigo?

The Master Tactician interlaced his gnarled hands over his cane, a polite half-smile lifting his shrunken cheeks. "I have ample resources at my disposal, Blood Hunter. You need only locate Kha'Zix." He tilted his head, adopting a faintly patronizing air in light of Warwick's cynicism. "He will be captured, one way or another--even if you find yourself unable to provide me that service."