Post by kevinxsenpai on Mar 31, 2013 3:39:24 GMT -5
March 29th 23 CLE
Vladimir had quite the bit of thinking after his trip to Ionia, that thinking, bringing him back to the DarkBourne Hold. He decided that it would be better to bring up his new concerns with Swain before making a drastic decision that may turn out to be a mistake. The guards had learned since the last time Vladimir visited, allowing him access to the hold. Though he could not see them, he was sure that a squad of Raedsel watched him closely.
Maneuvering through the rather large building, Vladimir finally reached his destination. He walked in to the office like room, he addressed the man inside as he entered. "Good evening, Grand General. I'd like to have a word with you."
Whispers travel quickly with The Shadows: agents' information in the dark. Though no one dared to apprehend the Blood Lord on his path down through the twisting halls of Darkbourne Hold, those watching from the gloom in corners; under stairs; upon the shrouded ceiling, high above the gentle glow of candlelight, brought their master news of his arrival. And when blood mage pressed upon the handle, the Grand General's book snapped shut in his hand. He laid it on the desk by which he stood and turned, his cane in hand, to face his guest as the office door swung open.
In the half-light of the room, luminous eyes pierced through the gloom, assessing Vladimir for his intent, red searchlights through the shadows. "Good evening," Swain replied. His tilting stride took him back around the desk, where he laid his cane to rest against the cabinet. "A word you shall have, Vladimir. Please, have a seat." A gnarled hand indicated the chair prepared to accommodate.
Slowly, arduously, both hands flat upon the table, the Grand General lowered his ailing form into his own chair behind the desk. He pressed his fingertips together before him on the polished surface, watching, waiting. "What would you ask of me."
Post by kevinxsenpai on Apr 2, 2013 21:01:14 GMT -5
Vladimir chose to stay standing, he did not want this to last longer than it needed to. His crimson eyes looked down into Swain's making sure that his point came across. "I would like to discuss the conditions of our deal that we made not even three months ago."
In a rather annoyed tone, Vladimir continued. "In return for my service to Noxus, you promised me unrestricted use of my abilities. So far, all you've had me do is play the role of a puppet master, not allowing me to feel the thrill of murder myself. And what am i offered when it is obvious i crave blood? The lowly scum in the depths of your prison, so kindly offered by the Deceiver."
The Lord of Blood did not plan to wait another three months for a chance at bloodshed, but would wait for Swain's reply before revealing his intentions after the meeting.
Last Edit: Apr 2, 2013 21:01:44 GMT -5 by kevinxsenpai
Post by The Master Tactician on Apr 2, 2013 21:26:16 GMT -5
His gaze remained impassive, glowing embers in the dark. He brought a withered hand over his shroud in contemplation, appraising this sudden outburst of discontent. His brows inched upward slightly as he listened. When Vladimir had finished, the Grand General conceded with a single nod, his eyes closed, weary.
He sighed. A grim accession came in reply, "You're right." These words rang through the shadows. The Master Tactician's face seemed haunted, all the more gaunt, in the half-light. "Too long have I kept you harnessed. I understood your thirst when I sought you. And I have been neglectful." His eyes sprang open again. He paused, lifted his chin.
"But." His brows contracted in an outward show of vague curiosity. "There is one thing I do not understand." Withered fingers of his right hand drummed upon the table in quick staccato; his right still held his chin. "The lowly scum. Does the way in which a prisoner sates you somehow differ from the death of a free man?" His eyes grew calculating, shrewd, taking in the hemomancer's every fidget. "Help me to help you, Vladimir. I am a very generous man--when it suits my purposes."
Post by kevinxsenpai on Apr 3, 2013 3:18:04 GMT -5
Vladimir's expression seemed almost surprised when the question was asked. "The difference between killing a man in chains and killing a man on his feet? Well Grand General you should know that. Its the challenge that makes all the difference. I could force a man to his knees and slaughter him, or I could battle him on his terms. Now, which sounds like it would be more enjoyable? "
Post by The Master Tactician on Apr 4, 2013 9:19:03 GMT -5
Crimson eyes drooped closed but for a moment as he nodded. "Very well, then." The Grand General's stern concession preceded the slightest clench of his jaw, the slightest narrowing of luminous eyes. "I will see to it that your bloodlust is sated." He paused but a moment, his gaze wandering over the papers on his desk. It lingered over one in particular: a map upon which glowing lines had been inscribed in a fractal pattern.
"I will have a place for you to do your dark work as you see fit in three weeks' time." Swain pursed his lips behind his shroud. "In the meantime, I can offer you free reign over the dungeons, three hundred prisoners to hold you over." Again, the quick staccato of his fingers on the desk punctuated the brief silence. "Can you make them last?"
Post by kevinxsenpai on Apr 4, 2013 15:46:27 GMT -5
Vladimir felt insulted now and his face clearly showed it. He took on more of an aggressive tone as he spoke now. "You dare offer me the filthy dogs of your dungeon again when I've already told you they will not satisfy me? And you think their tainted and most likely infected blood is good enough to tide me over for nearly another month? I took you for an intelligent man, Swain. But it appears I was wrong to think that..."
He turned and made his way for the door, stopping only to look over his shoulder and utter a few last words. "I'll do you the favor of leaving Noxus before I begin to quench my thirst."
Post by The Master Tactician on Apr 4, 2013 18:07:39 GMT -5
Swain watched the hemomancer's retreating back as he went, withered hands folded before him. His mask of poise never faltered, even as the murderous mage attempted to insult with his disdainful chide. What had Vladimir expected? An offering of citizens in droves? It seemed at last his price outweighed his usefulness.
His final words met the Grand General's ears and elicited only the slightest elevation of his brows. The only wise decision Vladimir had made.
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