Shadow Isles Invasion STG2: The Strength of Death.

Xin Zhao was still unconscious, he laid helplessly on the ground just behind the walls, his entire body covered in blood and black smoke. He was still alive, thanks to Yukiko, but he still did not know of her deeds.

A few guards came by with a make-shift stretcher. They carried him to the royal infirmary immediately, without a sound, setting him down on a small bed, with medical equipment laid out to the side. The doctor stood by the door, ready to perform a medical analysis.

"... I did not expect you to be here, in such a condition, Seneschal. By the looks of it, your situation is critical. However... I will do the best I can."

The doctor sat down besides the Seneschal, shaking his head. He was merely the beginning of the casualties to come.

((Long post :p))

((Location: The wall))

It was over in an instant, unnatural in of itself. Garen had remained silent, watching the two combat down below. Xin Zhao's steady battle rhythm giving him solace while he kept the metal behemoth - Mordekaiser under his other eye. Before he could react, the invincible steward of the Lightshield dynasty was defeated; his weapon falling from his hands. The noise the spear made when it struck the ground was far more sickening than that of the Seneschal's body. The spear lay just outside his reach, leaving him without the honour of holding it during his final moments. The man that had fought over 100 opponents at once had been defeated, it was impossible.

"He can't be dead, Xin Zhao would never allow himself to die in such a manner." Garen thought, hand unconsciously clenching the stone of the parapet so fiercely that the corner came away in his hand. His face grim, Garen watched the event; still unwilling to accept the Seneschal's death.

"Get up, Xin Zhao. Get up damn it" his mind roared, hoping to reach into whatever abyss the man had fallen into. But to no avail.

The Ruined King's voice screamed out his triumph, driving any last hope for Xin's survival out of his mind. A cold, familiar truth set in; slamming into his chest like a sheet of ice. Garen was a military man, and had seen men die under his command; each one a stark reminder of what they were willing to give up in the pursuit of Justice. But where was Xin's peace? Knowing with his last breath that, even in death, he would be used as a weapon of the enemy.

"There is no time, not now while they are still ready to strike. A commander must stand strong, as an example to his troops. Xin Zhao will be honoured as one of the fallen, who lived without fear of death." Garen stilled himself, standing tall in respect to the warrior. Guards along the wall did their best to do so as well, as terrifying as the enemy was. If the Shadow Isles came to strike fear into Demacian hearts, they had advanced upon the wrong city-state. Demacia stood above fear. Each citizen had been raised not to fear the denizens of the dark, but to detest them and stamp out all within reach. They did not hide from evil, they advanced upon it and purged it. That was their eternal duty, and they would pay any price to fulfil it. When Xin Zhao jumped from the wall, he showed that to every man, woman and child present. Demacia stands above fear!

The thoughts rose to a tidal wave in his mind, only to be culled by an even louder roar from above. Garen looked up, expecting to see the fiery Shyvana soaring down to meet them; but was surprised to see a different creature. Garen's opinion of half-dragons was not the most promising, knowing them to be creatures lead more by primal rage and instincts rather than discipline. However he was glad for the Seneschal's body to have some form of protection, her ferocity keeping the monsters at bay for the moment.

Even more surprising was her proclamation, willing to sacrifice her own life for the Seneschal's. Garen looked to the Prince, at once unsure how to proceed. It seemed that Jarvan allowed the action, though he could tell the Prince had as great a distaste for such dealings as he did. Garen turned to watch the gruesome ceremony, he would engrave this noble sacrifice into his mind.
"My Lord, her name?" He asked, a new respect for the compassion of half-dragons forming in his mind.

He heard the Prince's call to arms and readied his blade, placing a boot on the gap of the parapet as he looked out over the enemy.
"Yes, our greatest battle yet. One that they will all remember." He grinned, sizing up targets. The sound of marching can be heard down below as soldiers move through the streets, ushering citizens away from the walls and towards the castle. The familiar drum of feet meets Garen's ears, his own men of the Dauntless Vanguard taking up position behind them.

A hot fury burned beneath Garen's eyes, staring down at the black metal of Mordekaiser's helm. The shadowy duellist would be left to the Seneschal when he recovered, or for the Prince to enact vengeance upon. Garen's opponent would be Mordekaiser, who had displayed such a contemptuous lack of respect both during the duel and after. He had no concept of honour, and in Garen's view had never deserved the rumours spread about him of being some form of general. It was time that someone taught the metallic brute how a true military man should act.

Garen then looked along the wall, meeting the eyes of each soldier in turn. It was too late for preparing oneself, the battle had already begun in the minds of every one of them. The captain's presence was at least a comfort to the lesser men, and an inspiration to the rest. Muscles tensed and then relaxed, his breathing slowed and his mind cleared; focussed on what lay ahead.

"We are ready."

Just as Karthus was about to complete the resurrection, a voice invaded his mind. THe King was, apparently, not pleased by the exchange. The Deathsinger grumbled angrily. They knew not his reasoning....Sure, a dragon was better than a lancer. But it was more than that...A reason spurred from far into Karthus' past. But this was neither the time nor the place, and the King was already working some spell in an attempt to inspire fear into him.

Karthus ignored the sensation, for the most part. If the King did not want his participation, then so be it. "Very well...." he grimbled, and chanted a simple transportation spell. The sphere of darkness shrank down into a pinpoint, before vanishing altogether, taking it's occupants back to the Shadow Isles, to Karthus' domain.

((Location: Wall))

Seeing the Seneschal returned to Demacia, Poppy let out a sigh of relief. If he would be able to fight in the battle to come, that would be a great boon to Demacia. The Seneschal may have had been foolish to jump into combat as he did, but his strength and skill with his spear were unmatched by anyone the Ambassador had ever seen.

She then turns to look around the wall, spotting Prince Jarvan and Garen. She makes her way towards them fairly quickly, Whomper still glowing from preparation of the Devastating Blow Poppy had charged to provide a beacon of light.

"This will be a day to remember, will it not Garen?"

Poppy glances down towards the city itself, not bothering looking outside since the wall was too high for her to see anything without something to stand on. It seemed that the soldiers were making sure nothing could crawl in beneath the city. Wise move, as long as the explosions did not harm the city itself.

"At least it seems the Deathsinger earned the anger of their leader and is removed from the battle. Now they are weakened and we still stand as strong as ever. They will know justice, will they not Crownguard?"

Poppy shows the slightest sign of a grin, an unusual sight to see on the usually steeled face of the Iron Ambassador. Then again, not much seemed like usual with Poppy on this day. Her armor seemed purely of Demacian style, her shield larger and more ornate than usual and a helmet was protecting her head from harm. The only thing that seemed like usual about Poppy, was her attitude and the hammer in her hand.

Armor may change and be improved, but there would never be another weapon for Poppy to use but Whomper. Some may call it mere emotional bond to it for what it stood for, her loss and determination. But Poppy knew there was more to the hammer than met the eye. Something... that the creatures of the Isles would have to face.

"They will know that Demacia will always stand against the shadow, to protect the innocent and to bring justice. Hah... I'm starting to sound like a born Demacian aren't I?"

Mordekaiser let out a small chuckle at the woman who hissed at him. He set his mace off his shoulder and looked her dead in the eyes.. "You don't scare me, dragon." And here was the moment he was waiting for. He didn't care if he was breaking the promise of some Ionian dragon and the Deathsinger, but it was for the gain of the upper-hand in battle that he'd be doing this. He was about to raise his mace and just smash the Seneschal back into the ground so both lives were lost, but Karthus had flung him over the wall. He grunted in anger as the chance of two warriors' souls literally flew away. Why does he keep such promises!? They were mortals, Demacians no less. He looked up at the clearly angered King and just sighs. Great, more complications. Waiting for carnage that was delayed by a battle HE could've fought better was all for nothing. Why did he even COME here?

The pulsating waves tearing at the barrier then have him a quick reminder, and when he had caught a gaze staring down at him have him another reason to inflict torment amongst the soldiers. It was the Might of Demacia, the brother of the Lady of Luminosity, or his favorite, the human top that lives in a bush. His red gaze narrowed at Garen as he smirked beneath his helm. He pitied the mortal, as his potential in combat was bound by the shackles of good-will morals and honor. There's no honor in combat, for all is fair in love and war. War was a battlefield filled with constant bloodshed, death, and mixtures of emotions.. He would show Garen that he would best him in combat, honor or not.

He's going to break him.

He hefted his mace back onto his shoulder, and gazed at the gates. Time for carnage.

((I will be absent for most of tomorrow, sorry if I hold anyone up.))

((Location: The wall))

Garen addressed Poppy, still keeping a vigilant eye on the battlefield. "Indeed, Ambassador. I expect to rid the world of several evils today" he said, meeting Mordekaiser's venomous gaze with still more vehemence. The Ambassador's confidence was reassuring, if Garen did not think it slightly skewed by the fact that Poppy could not wholly see the enemy beyond the wall. He offered an inward chuckle, he and others had learned fast that - what Poppy lacked in size, she made up for in sheer strength and in spirit. The captain had never met a more determined Yordle, and was honoured to fight by her side.

However, he found her opinion of the events that had just transpired somewhat off-hand.
"Do not forget our loss, Ambassador. We are at a better advantage now, but that was due to the undead's own folly, and not without a price." Garen said sternly, he made a point to respect all who had fallen honourably and not to take their sacrifice lightly. The half-dragon, Demacian or not, was not exempt from this. Garen's features hardened for a moment, anger at the Isle's still seething within his mind. "Yes, they will know Justice."

Poppy's last comment was met with warmth, Garen studying her armour more closely. The glow of her weapon - Whomper, cast the gold and blue of the battle regalia in favourable light. She looked at home on the battlements with them.

"Those colours suit you well, Ambassador" Garen offered, turning back to the event at hand. It seemed that the Ruined King was not finished with his subjects. He did not notice the Seneschal's re-emergence, looking outside the city walls as Xin approached.