Jarvan braces himself as the wall is assaulted, but stands strong. He notices that Lux has joined their ranks and he is relieved. She is a valuable force for this defense. "Thanks for the shield Luxanna." He then notices her firing at the behemoths in an attempt to slow them down. "MEN! Fire upon those creatures! They are not allowed to make it to the walls."
As soon as the prince orders the attack, the soldiers scramble to comply. They hastily dip their arrows and set them ablaze in preparation for firing. They form lines and shoot in unison before falling back and allowing the next line to step up. The arrows scorch and set anything they hit on fire. Some of the shots fly wide or too short and strike some of the lesser undead and even some siege weapons. But, most of the arrows fly true and strike the behemoths. Flame begins to grow on their bodies as they continue to run.
Jarvan waves off Poppy as she leaves and dodges a flame. "Someone put these out!" Several idle men run to fetch flame-retardant powder in an attempt to put out the flames licking on the walls. His heart begins to race as he falls into the familiar feeling of battle. "MEN! Do not falter. We need the strength of each and everyone of you. Defend your home. Defend your loved ones! For justice. For Demacia!"
As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she walks to the gate and runs across the group protecting it. The particularly out-of-place looking Knight with some swordsmen. The swordsmen did not look particularly confident. Perhaps an extra inspiration could be useful.
[/i]
"We meet again knight. Let us send these undead bastards back to their graves, shall we?"
Whomper starts to glow with magical potency on Poppy's shoulder, making it clear to those around that Poppy's "trademark" strike, the Devastating Blow, was prepared for the first undead to make it's way through the gate. However, what was still not clear to most, was how the Ambassador prepared the strike. She had never shown any magical potency, and as far as anyone knew, Whomper was a regular, yet oddly shaped hammer. Only one who knew for sure... was Poppy herself.
((New location: Behind the Gate.))[/quote]
Victus glanced down at Poppy.
"Please take no offense, but as long as you stay out from underfoot, I promise not to step on you, ambassador. I am no diplomat. I am a blade of a dead house. One I plan on reminding to the dead with the steel they gave me. Vengeance is here in front of me. I am the last soldier you need to fear breaking ranks."
Victus turned back to the soldiers.
"Aim high. We have the Iron Ambassador. Hitting her is a bad idea. She might mistake you for a foe and break you." Victus shouted in his cold tone.
From behind the line of the advancing undead, Azazel lay upon the ground. His punishment for undermining Hecarim's authority had been harsh... Pain was raking his body right down to the bone, past and into his very soul... He cringes... Forces himself to stand...
Hecarim had humiliated him, ripped Azazel from his pedistal of power and literally left him in the mud. Azazel would have his revenge, Ruined King's protection or not, Hecarim would be brought down... Not here though. Not now.
Azazel looks around the Undead ranks, Hecarim, Evelynn, Mordekaiser... Thresh? Where was Thresh? All were to be present here. No exceptions. Azazel's eyes darken as he focuses on locating the Warden. Azazel couldn't feel his presence anywhere near the battle... The King would not be pleased. Best summon the Warden... They would need a plan if they were to occupy Demacia.
Azazel closes his eyes, his voice, still weakened from the punishment barely louder than a whisper as he begins the dark incantation.
Legion had waited for this moment for a long time. Ever since the King created it, Legion was eager to serve the King and his cause. The couple thousand corpses watched the barrier fall with burning red eyes, standing intermingled with the rest of the isle forces. They were connected to Legion, and it will use them as the Kings blade to cut down these mortals who opposed him, and then add them to it number of hosts. It moved a few hundred of its hosts along the behemoths, ready to storm the city when the gate came tumbling down. It listened to the noble speeches of the knights behind the walls and shortly tuned them out, for what they said had no relevance to its cause.
A lone corpse shambled up to Hecarim, bowing it's head as it approached. The centaur would here the many modulated voices of Legion, though the corpse's mouth remained shut.
"Lord Hecarim, we are ready to join the assault when the gates fall. We wish to know it there was a particular objective that you would wish us to achieve?"
"We are the King's Legion. Fear us, for we are many. Join us, for you will die. There is no sweeter mercy we can grant than your release from the mortal coil."
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 13, 2013 7:53:39 GMT -5
((Location: Behind the gate))
"If you were to get even close to stepping on me, you would be unable to use your leg for a week or two. No armor has been strong enough so far that Whomper cannot smash through it."
Poppy chuckles and looks at the soldiers around her. They would do what they had to for Demacia no doubt, but their eyes showed that they were not accustomed to having to fight until the enemy or they were dead. She holds Whomper against her shoulder, the hammer glowing as Poppy awaits for the undead to approach.
"And I am not that much of a diplomat. I am a smith's daughter after all. My determination was the reason that a certain Demacian general demanded that I would be appointed as the Ambassador to Demacia. But I suppose I have learned a trick or two during the years I've spent here.
I am more of a warrior than a diplomat, and if need be, I will prove it when the undead arrive. They will know the meaning of Hammer Diplomacy."
As the dark summoner continued his foul incantations, a thin veil of mist began to settle around the area, swiftly thickening into a dense murk. From everywhere and nowhere at once, a cacophony of whispering voices steadily dulled out the sounds of waged battle, replacing them with with bleak mutterings of a desolate future and awaiting suffering. As the whispers steadily increased in volume and intensity, a gaunt shadow emerged from the mists at a jaunty pace, bringing with it the sounds of grinding chains and gnashing metal. At last, the shadow came to a stop just before Azazel, looking down at the fallen summoner in the same way that a cat might consider an injured mouse.
"My, my, summoner," began a rasping, grating voice. "Crossing paths with the True Unliving...tsktsktsk. Unwise."
As the mists cleared away, a clawed foot closed around Azazel's chest, lifting him up a ways as its owner mockingly chortled. Before he had been lifted too far, a number of snaking chains bearing hooked ends parted from the shadow to hoist the summoner up to eye level, a sinister skull-like visage waiting him.
"I see my brothers have been productive in my absence. Good," mused the wicked Warden of the Isles. "But I do not see my Lantern before me. This will be readily amended, with interest."
As Thresh released his grip on Azazel, his restored form came into full view. Rather than his traditional ragged garments and rusting chain body, the Warden's spectral form appeared to be encased in a suit of armor, woven from countless interlocking links of metal and arranged into twisting arrays of spikes and spines around his wrists and shoulders. His facsimile for a face was no longer crude, but formed of almost elegant bladed crests. From his right hand hung an elaborately forged chain, ending in an even larger sickle blade honed to a serrated edge; in his left hung a monstrous flail formed from jagged spikes of metal held suspended in a sphere by the Warden's spectral force.
"Now then," Thresh chuckled, turning his gaze towards the besieged walls of Demacia. Somewhere deeper in the city, he could feel the Lantern calling to him, responding to his presence. Soon he would slake its loneliness, and with more than a few guests as well...
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on Apr 13, 2013 22:41:02 GMT -5
Location: Streets of Demacia
In the meantime while the chaos ensues upon the walls and the true battle initiates, Belle rolled a cart along with several other servants to the civilain's homes, passing out the fresh spiced cider to help calm their nerves during such an intense invasion. They had spent a great deal of time preparing it in hopes of offering some sense of comfort to the frightened people, pausing to talk with them and reassure them as they went along.
Any available servant from the De"Vera home and the Palace would have been adopted into the task of passing it out and comforting people. Such things could not be done with much sense of ease, and Belle made sure to focus on those who had lost much in the initial assault. Demacia was large, and her citizens had suffered greatly from the Shadow Isles.
However all was not so calm within the inner walls. The servants had tested the spiced cider before they ventured out. It was perfectly delicious, warm and ever so soothing to the soul. Misleading however, as it was also a potentially deadly mix.
Cries from civilians began to fill the air behind the walls as many staggered from their homes, choking and foaming violently at the mouth. Screams from those unaffected by the toxins would follow behind the cries of pain, deafening the battle from within the confines of Demacia's walls.
Among the falling stood Belle, horrified by what she was seeing. The cart stopped as she rushed to the sides of the servants who lay dying in the streets, crying to the air for help. She was too far from the wall to be heard, however.
Those on the walls would hear the cries from the people who lived nearby them. They could see the dying and the newly dead laying just outside their doors as those who still took in breaths would reach out desperately for anyone nearby to help.
You killed them all, Marabelle. All of this is your fault.. the spirit taunted her, laughing manically within her mind. All of this.. is your fault. Not strong enough to even help the people you care about..
Belle clutched at her head as she let out a scream, rushing away from the pots of hot cider. Tears streamed down her cheeks like a floodgate had opened as she desperately tried to escape the death she had caused. It wasn't by her hand, was it? Had she really done this?
She remembered..
Yes.... She did this. But not of her own will. That damned spirit possessing her was responsible! The hatred inside her ignited all the more as the laughter of the evil spirit filled her mind. Her eyes opened, and stopped upon something amidst the street.. A single object of interest. The crying stopped, and a hateful gaze locked upon it..
Thresh's lantern
Belle slowly approached it as the spirit laughed louder.
My Master returns. You can do nothing to it, and I shall ensure he makes you suffer for your sins... Marabelle..
Belle smiled faintly with a strange look burning in her eyes. A single arrow drawn from her quiver, and held like a knife as she neared to it. She knew not what the outcome might be, but as she lowered her hand would rise and plunge the arrow downward trying to stab into one of the holes of the lantern. Or the door, should it be open.
Post by Gillam Dunwall on Apr 14, 2013 0:04:33 GMT -5
Location: Demacian Streets
More screams. Gillam was furious now. "Ok! Now you vile beats are just taunting me!" He quickly shut up when he saw a civilian run into view, screaming and foaming at the mouth. "Oh dear god!" Gillam quickly rushed to her aid, but it was too late. Her eyes were glossed over, and her skin was dead cold. Her finger was pointed towards the residential areas.
Gillam limped on as fast as his wounded leg could carry him. More and more screams erupted from all sides of him, but this did not faze Gillam. He even saw some citizens leap out of their windows to end their suffering preemptively. Gillam just glanced away and kept limping.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw...De'Vera? Gillam turned towards her. Yes, it was definitely her. He quickly moved towards her. "Lady Marabelle! What has happened here? What have those damned ghosts done TO OUR PEOPLE!?"
"No matter the era, I am Demacian, through and through."
Post by The Shadow of War on Apr 14, 2013 0:36:28 GMT -5
The centaur first turned to Mordekaiser and gave him a silent nod before shouting back at him.
"Indeed, you shall go assist them and guarantee that they DO make it through, and then deal with the crownguard girl. I don't care how at this point just do it."
The minion of Legion approached Hecarim and he pondered for a second, Luxanna was making their siege of the walls... difficult, if she could be taken out of the picture than they could pressure the Demacian forces even harder with their assault.
"Once we are inside the Crownguards will need to be dealt with, they are a obstacle. Focus your assault on them. Spirit fire on Luxanna and a squad of your abominations on Garen and his forces. With them occupied we can focus our attention elsewhere."
With his commands issued he pointed his halberd forward, giving the order for his own spectral riders to aid in the assault. He then began to formulate a plan of dealing with another Demacian that had left their clutches... And to make sure there would be taken care of, but for that he would need Azazel.
Jarvan was pleased with how the battle was going so far. The enemies were vast, but the higher-ups seemed to be fighting amongst one another. Good, a force that is not united will crumble. Especially under Demacia's might. Once this battle is over, the prince will have a stern talking to with the League for allowing these monsters to be champions. They should of been struck down on sight.
What the prince saw next infuriated him. He saw Thresh, although his appearance was different, join the enemie's ranks. He thought Poppy killed it on the night of the first attack. He tunnel visioned onto this new arch nemesis. That thing abused his woman, and he was furious about it. His anger was comparable to if Swain himself appeared onto the field and began taunting him.
He faintly heard the screaming off in the distance. "Some of you go check out what is going on." He orders a few men to go and check out why the citizens are in a panic. As one soldier tries to leave however, Jarvan stops him and claims his bow and quiver.
Jarvan was determined to fight this new enemy and bring it to its knees before him. How dare this creature touch his wife and still be 'living'? Jarvan began to shoot flaming arrows at Thresh, his lifetime of weapons training making the arrows sail at ease towards his target.
Xin Zhao looked up to Jarvan, hearing him talk about Marabelle and things. He decided to go check on her, it would not be good if something were to happen to his loved one. Passing through some of the troops, he made his way towards her location - that is, he had to find her first.
Last that any troop saw, they had reported seeing her near Thresh's lantern, but she may have strayed away already.
((Location: Demacian streets))
He walked by, hoping to search for Marabelle. There was an awful lot of noie coming from around, it made it hard to find her.
"Lady Marabelle, where are you? Prince Jarvan is worried about you!"
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on Apr 14, 2013 6:37:12 GMT -5
Belle's gaze snapped up towards Gilliam when he approached her. There was a brutal fierceness in her eyes, something so unlike the usually calm and sweet woman that people knew. One final jab sent the arrow against the lantern, forcing it to snap and rip into her hand. She seemed to not notice as she stopped, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
"This is my fault.." She said weakly, gritting her teeth as her hair covered her face, ". . .this is all my fault."
Belle pulled her hand back, bloodied and torn open from the broken arrow. "Sir Gillam... Go fetch the cart with the large pots of cider." She would be damned if she didn't do something to this lantern. Her bloodied hand gripped at the chain that was attached to it, not caring for the consequences of such a careless act. Was it the spirit within her? Or her own free will? She pulled at it weakly, "Don't ask me why.. It's a couple of streets down, on the left side. Please, bring it here. The whole thing."
Mordekaiser nodded. He's going to need to pull down those guards on the walls, and his shield will not be enough to protect them. He needed to get help from someone. Immediately, he went back into the horde to look for the man who fit the job perfectly.
"Thresh!! Thresh where are you?! I need your assistance, NOW!!" He shouted. Upon finding him in his new armor, he smiled faintly. This armor would be more appropriate for battle than his tattered and worn out coat. Slightly push Azazel aside to allow him room to speak with Thresh face to face. He couldn't care less for the foolish summoner. He didn't care for any of them, as their arrogance always seemed to catch up with them when it came to their death and troubles. "The Behemoths won't make it to the gate without assistance. I need your help guarding the Behemoths and taking the guards off the walls." He said. "The sooner we can help them, the sooner we crush the walls to get inside there." Mordekaiser said. Though at this point of time in war, he wouldn't take no for an answer.
Once they WERE ready to go help, Mordekaiser would be running towards the Behemoths with his mace in his metallic grasp. Bravely, he charged onward pass the flaming arrows that whizzed by. Mere flames wouldn't stop him from seeing the fear in their eyes as their precious walls crumbled. He let out a roar as gee conjured a swirling cloud of sharp metal and tossed it to the snared Behemoth. The shield would deflect some of the incoming arrows, but the ones that pissed through wouldn't hurt as much. He would turn to Thresh if he were with him at the time. "Pull down the archers! If you have a clear shot to bring down the girl, do it!" He shouted. Meanwhile, he looked up at the champions on the wall. Perhaps a distraction could work. "JARVAN!" He shouted to him from the ground below. "WASTE NOT YOUR ARROWS ON MERE WALKING PILES OF CORPSES! USE THEM ON A REAL THREAT!" He then turned his attention to the gate. Maybe if he makes a move for it they'll focus him. He immediately makes a break for the gate as he readies his mace for blow to the structure for when he gets there.
Lux fell back to the lower levels of the streets. Fires of war forced her down from the walls where Jarvan commanded his men with a steely resolve. Routing these abominations before the gates of Demacia would save countless lives, but the fight would not allow itself to be caged by walls.
In the midst of her accomplishment, Lux barely heard the crashing at the gates. But Mordekaiser would not take the gate without his ravaging challenge to her king.
It came with the horrid verbal lashing of an arrogant monster of a man behind a tomb of steel. Lux knew she could handle the man in all of his unbridled wrath. Charging her staff with a flick of her wrist, she sent a charge to create a singularity of lucent energy behind the gate. It glistened in the darkness, shaded from the light of the blackened sky.
Gauging the level of force behind his blows against the gate, Lux took a deep breath and prepared for his arrival through the narrow opening in the gate. Once she saw the explosion from her singularity explode, she would charge up her final spark to attempt to blast the steel ravager out of the city.
Beating this man back would take the joy from Jarvan in seeing his demise, but Lux could live with that. She just hoped she did enough to rebuke Mordekaiser and his lust for revenge against the magical warrior.
Last Edit: Apr 14, 2013 21:51:22 GMT -5 by winzhao
Post by scriptedauthor90 on Apr 14, 2013 23:44:13 GMT -5
The battle was well under way, as the forces of the fallen marched upon the defense the Demacians clung so desperately to. Hordes of unliving, of all shapes and sizes, were sent out to commence the siege that was intended to claim the wall in which the enemy had set up their final stand. Upon the back of one of the towering Behemoths, a figure clad in black nonchalantly clung to ever so discreetly. The identity and purpose of this Stranger were lost to all but those it was aligned to, as the sole visible feature of its visage remained as an everlasting grin. Wide, but certainly eery. If one were able to look closely at it, the skin that was uncovered by its garments belied its nature, a grim slate color that no human could ever be capable of possessing.....At least, none that lived.
As the great creature that carried it neared the walls with its fellows, the armada that had been cast to their fates, the Stranger simply bided its time as if it was waiting for something. It took no action, merely remaining idle and leaving its own fate to the larger undead it was using as transportation. Such a gamble was rather empty, as all were already beyond their mortal coil and merely ghastly specters of their former selves. However, the time had finally arrived, and the Stranger was fortunate that its "steed" had suffered little to no damage. The Stranger chuckled softly, a voice clearly male if anyone were capable of hearing it, as he steeled himself in preparation for what he was about to do. He had snuck onto the Behemoth before the charge began, and now the purpose for it was nigh.
The Stranger instantly faded into nothingness, leaving nothing behind it his former position. However, he hadn't been cast to Oblivion or anything of the sort, rather, he had removed his presence from his perch upon the Behemoth and re-integrated it into the city beyond the wall that acted as the sole defense for the good people of Demacia. The figure in black found himself hidden behind the shadow of a building, as he staggered from his previous action and dropped silently to one knee. His fingerless gloved hand rose to clutch his chest, as if something had pierced where his heart should have been, and he remained perfectly still for some time. Second after second, he gradually recovered from the strain of such a lengthy jump, but after about a minute he would be ready to go once more.
The only question that remained, was whether he was hidden well enough to not be spotted by anyone and raise the alert. Although if the main Demacian forces were to be put into such a state of alarm, then at the very least that might draw might away from the gates so that he may be dealt with....
{{ Sorry I was late to the party, but it's better late than never! Besides, the King would have my very SOUL if I didn't lift a finger to assist in this Invasion. }}
Last Edit: Apr 14, 2013 23:49:22 GMT -5 by winzhao
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