Thresh had only just begun to jauntily stride out onto the field of battle, 'breaking in' his newest body so to say, when lit arrows began to rain down around him. Apparently he wasn't welcome anymore in or around Demacia, not after his display at the gatehouse the day before. Alternating flicks of his scythe and flail saw to the destruction of the arrows as they drew near, and the few that broke through his whirling defense broke against his armored hide with slight dents. Damage was to be expected in the assault, Thresh knew, but if he deemed it necessary he could easily cannibalize the lesser undead and put their necromantic energies to use. Glancing about the walls to search for the source of the arrows, Thresh settled on none other than the Crown Prince himself, prompting a ghastly sneer.
"Prince Jarvan the Fourth? Hah!" Thresh loudly jeered, his haunting voice likely reaching the battlements. "Jarvan the Farce, more like! How can you hope to defend your city from our legions when you could not defend your wench from one such as I? 'tis futile!"
Continuing to knock aside the arrow volley, Thresh retreated along the frontlines of the unliving, his attention drawn by the deep, resonating calls of Mordekaiser. Quickly following the warlord to the walls, hopefully out of Jarvan's bow range, the problem was laid bare: their great unliving siege weapons were imperiled, by the pathetic Lady of Luminosity no less. If the walls could not be breached, then Thresh's path into the city would not be cleared; if his path could not be cleared, then the Lantern would never be his again. And if the Lantern were to remain trapped within the city limits...Thresh did not want to think of the implications.
"As you wish, so shall it be," Thresh called to Mordekaiser as the Master of Metal surged forward. "I've been meaning to go fishing for a long while anyways..."
With the unholy army making its advance around him, Thresh jauntily strode forward with both of his weapons spinning up at arm's length from him, a grim cackle bubbling forth from his throat at the thought of the chaos soon to be inflicted. A quick sweep of the walls revealed to Thresh a number of key points from which the defenders made their stand; the crenelations would prove difficult to strike, while the murder holes were an inviting sight. Winding up his scythe with a chuckle, Thresh hurled the wicked blade towards one of the gaps as a shadow fell over it, earning a gristly scream for his troubles. With a sharp yank on the chain, a moist crunch sounded from the murder hole before the chain returned to the Warden. The murder hole was essentially plugged up with the corpse, making the walls of Demacia that much less defensible over the hole's firing arc.
Thresh continued this strategy as he advanced down the wall, making plentiful use of his flail to smash away at crenelations and his chain to skewer murder holes. With any luck, his provided cover would allow the Behemoths to advance ever closer where their brute strength could be put to proper use. An ever fouler idea came to Thresh as he prepared to hurl his scythe into another murder hole, prompting him to instead switch to his flail. As the sphere of metal shards entered the murder hole, Thresh gave a flick of the enchanted chain; as soon as the sphere had cleared the threshold, the shards scattered in all directions before reforming around the core of spirit energy, shredding the victims within.
"Why..." Thresh mused aloud as his flail returned to him, the shards soaked in gore. "This might just be fun after all!"
After Azazel's encounter with Thresh, he was left with a burning hatred for the True Undead. He grits his teeth and makes his way slowly to Hecarim, his beath shallow and fast after being nearly choked to death. Surely they knew the value of a summoner on their side? Yet they treat one of the few they have like garbage. Without him, this invasion wouldn't have even been possible.
He stands upright, his hood obscuring his face that was knitted in pain, "Sir..." he pretty much spits the words at Hecarim, his dislike for the centaur evident, "What need of me do you have. Thresh has been resummoned to the field of battle... should I attempt a ritual to summon Nocturne? He seems to have vanished."
The Legion made the proper adjustments to its hosts due to Hecarim's orders. They would be ready to swarm in when the gates went down, and ready to assault Lux and Garen. Many of its hosts may go down, but if the Crowngaurds are unable to face Hecarim and the others, it will consider that a great boon to their forces. The host next to Hecarim bowed before speaking to his mind again.
"We are ready for when the gates come down Lord Hecarim. We will also send a number of our hosts with Thresh and Mordekaiser to aid them as well. The glory of our king will me made known this day. If there is anything else you wish of us, just ask and it will be done."
As Legion spoke to the centaur it would be maneuvering its hosts to be near the Master of Metal and the Warden, in case they needed the assistance.
"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."
Mordekaiser kept striking the gate, leaving dents with each strike. "YOUR GATES CANNOT HIDE YOU FROM DEATH JARVAN!" He shouted. His deep, booming voice penetrated through the walls within their hearts and minds to keep them from trembling in fear. The walls within their minds built so well by their Prince being torn apart like the gate before them. "YOU!" Thud! "WILL!" THUD! Mordekaiser began to charge up his mace with power, his signature Mace of move. "DIE!"
CRASH!
A large hole from his metallic spiked mace came exploding out to the Demacians. Electricity and mini-maces went flying out and struck nearby guards, soldiers, and perhaps even Lux if she was close. The guards that were struck most likely wouldn't die, but they'd be wounded. The damage they took surged through Mordekaiser. Their pain was his drain. All of it flowing to him and to his dark suit of armor. Now all that was left to do was completely tear it down and-OH SHI-
With a blast of the Lucent Singularity, Mordekaiser wasn't damaged, as he was too far. However, he was blinded from the light. Hr stumbled back with a growl, moving off to the side, only to get hit by her FINALES FUNKLEIN. He let out a roar of pain. Although the shield was able to take a good amount of the laser, the heat that came from it burned his side... As well as his cape. He got up with a grunt of pain, blinded for a moment before staring at her through the hole in the gate. His red glowing eyes pierced into her, fuming with rage and plans of revenge. But for now, he needed to back away from the gate so he wouldn't take more damage. He looked at the Legion who were coming to assist him. He grabbed one and glared at him. "If you have a healer, which you BETTER, bring him or her to me as soon as you can. I cannot go into battle already injured." He tossed the soldier to the ground and stood with the healers. He'll do what he can here until the healer comes, holding his slightly burning side.
Post by Victus Brightblade on Apr 15, 2013 21:07:36 GMT -5
"Kill the little ones swiftly, Brothers! The big ones are greater threats! NOT ONE STEP BACKWARDS! FOR THE LIVING!! FOR BRIGHTBLADE!" shouted Victus.
Victus was tempted to shout for Demacia, but he could not bring himself to. This was no longer his home. He held no loyalty to it. Countries are not something worth fighting for. They were lines on a map that only nobles saw. People are worth fighting for. He held no loyalty to them either.
Victus lead a counter charge towards the gate after Lux sent the laser. The soldiers beside him cried out for Demacia, or for their houses if they were nobles. Mordekaiser stood before them, but he was wounded. Legion was coming to his aid, but all the Demacians saw were a wall of dead, and this wall must no be allowed to soil the city further.
Post by Gillam Dunwall on Apr 15, 2013 23:07:08 GMT -5
Gillam was very well alert. He may have been injured, but he was ready to fight if need be. He remained cautious of Belle. What if she had been possessed? What if that wasn't Belle, but a shapeshifter? What if...
"Of course, milady." Gillam kept his lance ready, and retrieved the cart full of the cider. He couldn't help but wonder if...No, Belle would never do such a thing. "I have the cart, milady!" Gillam called out to her. There would be no way for Belle to have cause harm upon the civilians. Unless...Gillam glanced at the pots full of cider, his eyes wide with fear.
"No matter the era, I am Demacian, through and through."
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on Apr 16, 2013 1:10:52 GMT -5
As the pots would arrive to her location, Belle rose to her feet and moved purposefully towards it. She'd slowly manouver it so it sat beside the lantern, then went about.. What was she doing? As she pressed against the side of the cart, it began to tip slowly towards the lantern. The hot liquid splashing with each heavy push.
She was determined, whatever her plan may be, to tip the cart and send the heavy pots of cider crashing down upon the lantern, along with the cart that carried them. Not a word said as she did her best. With one final push, she let out a loud cry sending the cart over where the whole thing would crash on top of the lantern.
Belle panted heavily as she stood there, staring down at the splintered cart and the spilled pots, dented from the force of the fall as they crashed into Thresh's lantern. Steam danced up from the cider that spilled across the ground, and the soul prison that belonged to the warden.
"It.. must be destroyed." Belle spoke with a trembling voice, "..we have to destroy it.." Her teal gaze locked upon the lantern with a cold stare.
-The Gates- Legion was not affected by Mordekaiser's rough treatment of its host. Legion was many, and there was no need for emotion.The Legionnaire stood silently, the words of the Legion sounding in Mordekaiser's head.
"Of course Lord Mordekaiser, we will get a healer to you soon.We will cover your withdrawal and will eagerly await your return to battle."
His hosts moved with the other forces, placing themselves in between Moredekaiser and the counter assault. His legionaries would meet the Demacian's head on. Though empty of life they were still as capable in combat as any soldier, maybe more so due to the inability to feel pain. Lifeless hands wielding axes,swords,and even pole-arms would clashes with the metal wielded by living hands. As undead and mortal alike fell in battle, Legion was ever ready to make the still warm corpses of any Demacian, that remained mostly whole, rise up to join his legionaries to combat their former comrades.
Further back, a robed corpse would approach Mordekaiser and bow. He made it known he was the healer the Master of Metal sent for and began to work on repairing his wounds.
"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."
Jarvan felt rage bubbling up as Thresh taunted him. "Wench?" He scoffed. Belle was the exact opposite of a cheap bar wench. She was pure, and of noble blood as well. He tried to continue to shoot Thresh as he walked away, but soon the arrows could not fly any further and could not reach their destination. He saw as the warden began to grab onto men and rip them apart. "MEN! Do not get too close to the edge, cover up those holes when not firing!" He was frustrated and resisted the extreme urge to jump down and fight Thresh himself.
The prince saw Lux's perfectly landed finales funklein and gave Garen a slap on the back. "Your sister has become a good shot and a fine warrior." He then peers down and notices the damage done to the gate and Victus fighting the undead head-on. "We need more men down there now!" Jarvan begins to follow a group of reinforcements for the gate.
Post by The Iron Ambassador on Apr 16, 2013 2:50:31 GMT -5
((Location:Gate))
Seeing Victus rush in before her, Poppy shakes her head. That might not end well. Poppy moves in to where the combat is, but takes it a bit more slow, not taking the chance of getting ambushed. The wall of dead didn't seem threatening to her, seeming like mere clumsy corpses instead of anything powerful.
She lifts Whomper from her shoulder and suddenly charges one of the undead head-on, her large shield protecting her as the undead is knocked to the ground. She then smashes the corpse's head in with Whomper's enchanted "Devastating Blow", no trace of the head left after the strike was done. She then quickly lands a few other strikes to the corpse, removing it's limbs before looking at the rest of the undead. If they were all this simple, the enemy would have no chance of conquering Demacia, but she knew better than to forget their"champions" that were a lot more dangerous.
"Mere fodder... most likely to be used to thin out the untrained and to tire out the skilled soldiers. Do not tire yourselves on these, just do what is necessary to bring them down and continue on."
She then spots Thresh's new form to the side, slamming another corpse from her way with her shield as she looks at the Warden. His death the other day had been too easy, and she was not surprised to see something like this from the undead. She turns back to the undead wall near her, smashing the head and limbs of the corpse she took down with her shield earlier to stop it moving. This would not be a short fight.
Post by The Shadow of War on Apr 16, 2013 2:53:08 GMT -5
Hecarim looked at Azazel and nodded, Nocturne wasn't pulling his weight in this assault. Aside from that his abilities would prove useful here in the siege once Lux was taken care of.
"Yes, and while you are at it take a visit to the healer that Legion has risen for us, your strength will be needed in this as well."
The centaur looked to the minion of Legion and spoke to it, being reminded of something he had almost forgotten: The corpses of Brightblade, while they were here he would make the last Brightblade one of the dead in due time.
"The fallen warriors back at Brightblade, take control of warriors there and have them bring ladders from the fortress here and send them upon the walls. With that start sending our ground troops onto the wall for combat."
His orders given the centaur eagerly awaited until he himself could be set loose out on the battlefield.
-Hecarim- Legion was pleased with the new orders. The enemy's morale never held for long when they were fighting their own dead. The host bowed to the centaur, glee sounding in the numerous voices of Legion.
"As you command, it will be done. We will have then here as soon as we can."
-Castle Brightblade- The hivemind traced their march back to the ruined fortress of the Brightblades. It wove itself into the corpses of the brave warriors that fell in her defense. One by one they rose, eyes burning with a orange light. They formed marching ranks, carrying the siege ladders that the Shadow of War requested among the ranks. Then as of one mind and one purpose they began their march towards the city. At the head of the ranks, Legion made its cruel statement clear by having the corpse bear the standard of the Brightblade coat of arms. That their fallen shall belong to their rightful king.
-The Battle at the Walls and Gate- Hosts did fall to the Demacian's assault, it was inevitable. But Legion was tireless, it was many, and it never knew mercy. The Demacian's that fell, and were left unattended to would begin to rise from their place of death and turn on their former allies with the orange fire in their eyes. Raising their armaments against their former brethren in arms. Then, they did the most unsettling thing yet, they all spoke, the same words, the same inflections, at the same time.
"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."
"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."
Garen was rapidly giving orders to the men by his side, directing fire towards the behemoths and the larger masses of units. The oiled fire was not hindered as much by the rain, and spread due to the lack of space between their units. The dark fire on their own walls was a problem as well, but at least they were spaced out enough not to set their own men alight if someone got hit. He stood as men were slowly picked and assassinated from within their walls, the onagers and Thresh slowly picking away at their defences. The undead had taken damage as well, Lux's magic hindering the large behemoths enough to buy them time. But they needed a better way to thin the enemy ranks, and Garen didn't feel like sitting idle for long.
He noticed Mordekaiser lead the charge to the gate, a portion of the mindless horde following him in to assault the defences; a wholly reckless attack. Garen watched his approach until he fell out of sight under the ramparts, then turned to head back to ground level. "My men will need me down below, I leave things here to you" he called back to his allies. Luxanna was already down there, and he heard the otherworldly sound of her signature move; almost deafening when close up. He quickened his pace, moving with purpose towards the gates.
--------------------
((Ronan Farris. Location: Gate))
Down below, the Dauntless Vanguard were fighting their own battle. The evacuation of the area around the gate was complete, but Ronan had a feeling that things weren't going as well in other parts of the city. The lieutenant directed the men in Garen's absence, not new to the task and quick with his work. A front-line of men held the gate, reinforcing it from the inside with their weight. They carried large kite shields that reached the shoulder in height, which used these to hold the bulkhead and defend against any attack that managed to sneak through the holes. Behind the initial line lay the bulk of the the Vanguard, supporting Ms. Crownguard and waiting for any potential breakthrough.
Ronan welcomed Lux's assistance, conveying his orders with a bit more force than would have normally served. It was no secret among the men that he'd had his eye on her for some time and was plucking up the courage to ask her out, granted he had the captain's permission first, of course. Ronan made sure that the men cleared the way for Lux's attacks through the gaps in their defence, stepping back before piling in again upon his command. They could all hear the dead out there, screaming and baying for blood; but the Dauntless wouldn't be trifled with. Mordekaiser's shouts were met with the beating of shields, the men inside taunting him to have another go.
Ronan looked to the platforms above the gate, where a couple of guards were stationed. They rolled barrels along the platform, similar to the ones used above by the archers; and set them up at intervals along the width of the gate. One of them waved down to signal that they were ready, and Ronan nodded to acknowledge. They were in for a surprise when they came through the gates, that was assured.
He was surprised when the barbarian came charging past, a man that Ronan had only heard of by reputation. He lead a group of his own soldiers out into battle, beyond the safety of the gate and losing their advantage of the choke-hold. It was reckless, too reckless to charge out there into the horde. Mordekaiser's attacks against the Vanguard fell short, as it was only Victus' men out there with him, Ronan and the Dauntless had not left the safety of the walls. "Men! Secure the gate, get those soldiers back here!" He shouted, the Dauntless lines attempting to stop the Legion from getting between Victus' group and the opening. He was hesitant to move too far out of the walls, as it would only result in losing men. Other soldiers were already moving to fix the gap Mordekaiser had made in their walls, lifting wooden beams and planks to cover and brace the gap. If Victus didn't get back soon, he would be trapped out there with his men.
"Get back in position! You're too exposed!" Farris yelled over the din to the berserker's squad, felling the undead who got in his way.
An unearthly cackle escaped from Thresh's maw as the vital essence, the very soul of yet another disemboweled victim drained into him through the chain of his scythe. If he had his Lantern on hand, he would have much preferred to keep the soul for later mischief, to give the wretched Demacians exactly what they deserved. Consuming the victims, however, was just as effective, as their spiritual energies would serve instead to nourish and empower Thresh to acts of even greater destruction. But even as he gorged himself on the souls of the fallen, his age-old policy continued to persist: every soul was a treasure, every life to be remembered.
"Aramis..." Thresh muttered as the last of the soul's essence permeated his armored hide, causing his spirit fire to flare a bright emerald. "Become a part of me then, Aramis."
Against most other opponents, Thresh might have felt a twinge of annoyance at the consumption of souls; it reflected poorly on his collection, and prevented him from having his way with them in the way that he desired. But these were Demacians he was dealing with, and the self-righteous swine had every right to suffer within him for as long as he so pleased, to become one with the being that brought increasing chaos to their ranks. They would suffer, every last one of them; Demacia bore uncountable sins that they now answered for in triplicate. The worthless scum would writhe for eternity in Thresh's grip for daring to defy him on his first sojourn, for attempting to seize the Lantern, for laying hands upon him, and for everything else that they had done over the centuries past. And if he could not, then his brethren in unlife most certainly would, given the fervor with which the horde milling about him charged the walls.
A dazzling nova of light caught Thresh's attention as the gates fell, and he glanced over just in time to see Mordekaiser be flung back by the infernal Crownguard. If only he had been quicker, he might have snared her from the wall, but that was all in the past. At the present, both armies seemed to be bottle-necked in the gateway, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of gained or lost ground.
"A little gift for them, then..." Thresh mused, beginning to swing his flail in a quick circle at his side. Experimenting with it earlier had proven fruitful, but now was the time to put the flail's capabilities to the test.
With every swing, the cursed energy keeping the jagged shards of the flail together pulsed and darkened, the shards parting progressively more with every pulse. Giving a final swing, Thresh detached the flail's head on the up-swing, watching with glee as the spectral sphere hurtled through the air towards the gateway. The Warden broke into an insane grin as the rapidly brightening sphere vanished amidst the melee, placing his claws at the approximate area where his ears would have been.
Moments later, a shrill blast resounded through the area, filled with the whine of shrapnel. It may have cost Thresh his flail, but the improvised artillery would almost certainly cause disarray in the brawl.
Mordekaiser breathed in slowly as the healer began to relieve the burning sensation that came from the grand laser. He stood by the Black Hex and amongst the Legion that went in to attack. However, he noticed something. Mortals trying to take on the offensive OUTSIDE the gate? He laughed quietly to himself as the mortals were foolishly approaching their deaths.
He hefted his mace from his shoulder and let the mace drop and dig into the corrupted earth. He looked down at the healer with his red eyes. "Keep a steady steam of healing on me. Stay back for safety and if they come for you, shout to let me know. If they're committed to you, run to the Black Hex as they won't get you there." He said as he looked towards the advancing enemies. He let out a roar as he began running, each step shaking the earth and reminding the mortals of their future anguish. He turned back to make sure the healer was behind him before looking back at the enemies. He pierced their souls with a red glowing glare, before channeling magic in his hand. It cackled with metal and blue lightning, and when he got near Victus and his allies, he thrusts his hand out abs releases the energy into a Siphon of Destruction spell. He would send extreme pain throughout the soldiers, and perhaps the grand Victus himself. Their pain sustained him, fueling his power and armor. It felt good to be seething with the anguish of weak mortals. The healer stayed behind him, healing the energy her used to cast the spell. He stood their in a battle stance as he glared at the soldiers he was confronting. "Do your worst, mortals!" He shouted, waiting for their next move.
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