[Story] The Northern Campaign (Noxus vs Freljord)

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Berukyorasu

Senior Member

12-22-2012

Quote:
Greetings fellow readers! Erm... Summoners, to be more precise. Since the coldest event of the year has arrived, I decided to share a tale for the season during the Snowdown Showdown. However, a lot more precise to lore ever since the Journal of Justice was ahem... "Shutdown"... Aha get it? Nevermind... Bad joke. But regardless, I present to you the Noxian invasion of Freljord, under the tyranny command of their new general- Jericho Swain. Will update every time I can, hope you enjoy the story.

[CENTER]Prologue[/CENTER]

I'm sure many of you have been out in cold temperatures, lose the feel of your fingers or toes as they went numb and seen your own warm breath in the wind; however, to the Freljordian citizens this was almost an adaption made at birth. In Freljord, nobody ever noticed the puffs of white smog before them or even the deterring sense of touch; to a Noxian however, the situation was entirely different. It was difficult to move, knowing whatever surface you stepped on was actually sturdy, for the eyes gave way to illusion unto miles and miles of blank white snow. Ice was invisible under blankets of glittering snowflakes, and the only other difference in the terrain was the ever changing climate. From the quiet of whistling winds to a might gale roaring past the frozen desert, whether it had carried only a brush of icicles or a volley of hail; it was hard to tell which was worse, losing more of your limbs nerves or bombarded till bruised black and blue. Either way both of these facts were discouraging thoughts, the duo of Noxian scouts were weathered by only the falling snow, and had not yet been ravaged by a common Freljordian disaster.

"I can't deal with this, the weather is insane."

"We have to deal with it. Orders aren't meant to be disobeyed."

"Yet these orders are fulfilling my death wish a bit... Prematurely."

The two were only distinguishable by facial gear, one wrapped a thick crimson cloth around their neck while the other had wore a pair of dirty green lensed goggles. The pair were adult males, clearly the one complaining was more youthful in voice tone and had a lean form in body size difference. They both fit their equipment well, from the grey fur lined bracers and boots to the white wool vests and leggings, the weather resistant material had kept them warm for the first few miles but eventually, Freljord began to attack without remorse. The region hissed with terrible ripples in the wind, shredding against the durable cloth and striked with both hands, lifting up a considerable amount of glacial powder against the two invaders. Though they pushed on, she was reaching her most furious point of onslaught, and even those unaccustomed to the environment could see clearly at the darkening sky. She was ready to eliminate them in a single blow, that would shake all of the northern hemisphere of Valoran perhaps even greater than the Gelid Vortex itself.

"A storm is brewing here, we better create some shelter soon or at least find one."

"We can't afford to be late the report has to be delivered, he ordered it after all."

The grey cloaks of the two scouts flourished in a sudden breeze, the embroidened scarlet emblem of Noxus drifted upwards just as the snowfall began to dissipate. Underneath the heated interior of the pale white camouflage, it appeared Noxians never kept away a source of onyx or crimson tint on their attire at all times. The symbol revolved around these pure colors, just as Demacia aligned blue and gold; Noxus relied solely on the pigment of blood and its worth in their society. But Freljord was not intimidated with the presence of an opposing nations flag, the clouds dimmed to an ashen haze and roaring from the heavens came thunder; penultimate to the flash of heat that would ignite the tallest reaches of the sleet sea. A storm would occur then engulfing the two intruders in seconds, making it opaque enough in the blizzard that neither would recognize one another.

"We're close to the edge of the border, it's been a long journey but Squadron 13 should be near the territorial mark."

"I see it, the snow ends there. We're entering the tundra."

"Quicken the pace."

They were pushing now against a rushing wind that desired them to stay, Freljord was attempting to overwhelm them with a heavy gust. Then it happened. A blast of cold and warm air mixed, fusing as a strike of lightning merged the currents; it only took a split second or less before the ground beneath the scouts feet began to quake violently. Like an exhale of the region itself, wind ravaged the once peaceful realm before them lifting buffets of snow and sending the particles in every direction. The Noxians dropped immediately, desperate to cover themselves before the squalls began movement; they were feared the most, even by Freljordians who were the first to witness and resist against. Then under instinct, the twin infiltrators that had laid flat began to crawl the moment the squalls sundered the air; no later would hail begin to fall and they needed to be as far as they could from the range of its pellets. It meant life and death regardless if it meant closer to the earth or standing, the hail would pulverize their bodies.

"I can't see anything, agh!"

"Just get up and run now, the hail is coming."

Stubbornly, they both adjusted to a kneeling position before squating to run, the tundra was close and unaffected by the coming disaster. With the trees present, the hail and snow would fair little against the escaping soldiers due to the height and shade they created for them. Freljord was losing its chance. Another roar of anger from the sky, it bellowed louder than the thunder before it as the flashes of light crackled nearby. The ecosystem seemed to come alive, clawing with invisible hands and reaching out to grasp the fleeing humans. But alas they reached the border and dramatically at that, nearly rolling down the hill of the treeline as though being chased by an avalanche. The result of running with low stamina did however, have its negative side effects; the two were exhausted and out of breath when Freljord groaned in close defeat behind them.

"Ugh, we made it."

"I didn't think we would, and look... Guess who's here to celebrate for us."

"Captain!"

The survival of the storm proved one thing though, the capability of a Noxian in an alien environment. Reunion with a slightly larger squadron, the reports that the scouts had would play an even greater role eventually, as the group moved out from the location and began heading south. A murder of crows were unseen above the tips of snowy trees, only noticed by sound as they cawed out into the serene distant landscape of Freljord. After every storm that is, would come a beautiful view but not one a certain bird was interested in- it had a lot more to see and in turn tell with six red eyes. Above the frozen wasteland of Freljord, a whispering could be heard in the silent almost eerie cold.

"Beatrice... Beatrice..."

And then...

Laughter.

To Be Continued...


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Berukyorasu

Senior Member

12-23-2012

[CENTER]Chapter One[/CENTER]

It was almost noon when the suns rays finally hit Noxus, the state of morning was never a daily routine in the city state but rather, an afternoon event if anyone bothered to look up. Even if curiousity got the better of you though, gazing upwards you would only see the toxic fumes of the Noxian industry; otherwise, the only other thing clear beyond the smoke was the massive fortress of the Noxian Headquarters and its looming skull carved mountainside. Yet you wouldn't need to be within the walls of the city state to be affixed by the structure, and as simple as it was to view, it remained an overwhelming sight to take in fully. Something about the architecture instilled great power, from the pillars and plates to the grand design of each gateway entrance into the keep. Each runic carving into the building was undiscernable by any Noxian citizens, but it was clear what was written in common above each passage.

"Forever strong!"

The dark robed guards would announce to the passing public, the motto was not to be defied as a cheer but neither a rally. It was simply a quote, a message passed from each and every humanoid that served in the ebony region; militaristic as Noxus was, this code was a tool of enormous influence. With the fluctuating unease of the population during the crowning of Jericho Swain as general, much commotion was reckoned with the nobility and Noxian High Command; yet the two words kept Noxus together in its difficult time of political control. With Jericho Swain promoted, many of the nobility that had assisted the newly deceased Boram Darkwill, were in fact vulnerable to criticism and in turn death by the risen power. Deceit, manipulation and cunning all played in the role of survival for the doubted and unfortunate individuals. If it was not the blame by one another for one more breath, it was the most feared consequence of decapitation by Noxus's Hand, Darius.

It was not justice that was delivered in Noxus, it mattered not if the guilty survived while the innocent died. Strength attained strength, and it was this process of thought that kept the city state flourishing in the vile secrecy it had witheld. Change was coming however to this value, without any opposition to his absolute power and control over Noxus; Jericho Swain was determined to crush the other city states indirectly, if not directly- and in failure, drive the ruined foundation of Noxus into the ground with his possible defeat.

"Beatrice..."

The mans voice was low, but against the faint candlelight it was clear he was more than a man. Teal feathers rippled off his shoulderblades, and clusters of straight tipped hairs leveled off his olive and fuchsia raiments. The thick brass additions to his outfit shined, they were cleaned recently and gave off a distinct glow against the torches reflection. He wore a helmet of light steel, the same material that remained on his chest and shoulderpads yet with an elegant pattern of lifted curves and points. The cape of dark turquoise blended well with his feathered linings, he had a clear taste for avians and how they appeared; yet the way he masqueraded as one was not in particular, weird. It was as though, he was a bird himself yet manifested in a humanoid form.

"Beatrice. Come."

A ruffle of several winged shadows merged into one spot, like an illusion or shadow art coming alive against the lit background of marble. With a gloved palm of tea jean tint, his bare fingers bent inwards together as though clutching something, the lengthy nails sharpened as talons pressed into a ominous violet glow. Then it appeared, an insect-like bird that glared with six red pupils, its fluctuating image materializing from the harnessed shadows in the palm of the feathered wizard. It broke the silence of crackling flames with a caw, communing with its summoner as its talons perched onto the scaled carapace of the robe. Whatever news it had delivered, it was easy to see that it had pleased the man who began to tread down the hall at a slow pace.

"Good... Then I can begin the operation soon."

"Indeed."

The man flinched as his march down the aisle had been paused, his left pupil turned to identify the plausible threat. It was all but a shadow, a thin figure perhaps female that had watched his movement past the pillars. His cautious behaviour was short lived however, as revelation came to his view when he turned to view the female guest before him. The first thing he noticed was the cursive headress of gold embedded with a ruby gem, and no sooner the navy blue flow of hair below it. She smiled slighty, the sides of her lip elevated and the glimmer of topaz in her eyes met the mans gaze. She had not changed much since their last meeting, and her appearance was unmistakable.

"Jericho, you decided to change after all."

"Evaine... One shouldn't be wandering these premises without identification."

"Pfft, my identity is my own- and, do not call me Evaine. Regardless of your status, I am Emilia to all."

Her topaz eyes glared towards Swain as she clutched her staff tighter, the invisible veins seemed to pour out from her hand before she exhaled. Sighing, she stretched as the vulgar dress she wore made purposeful intimidation towards the man, she probably intended to strut her appearance before him. The beige leather belts bounced against her waist, the light metallic bindings clacked against each other and the violet skirt seemed to sway with it. The gold rimmed cloak of royal purple swished behind her, trickery or not, the design mimicked live flames, swaying against the wind and Swain's eyes seemed to be caught by its illusion.

"As the general now, you realize the duty and danger of your role now, no?"

"I do, yet that of my safety does not concern me."

"Well... Keep a watchful eye regardless, there are more enemies within this nation than there are outside of it."

"I'm sure nobody will test my power, you were there at my demonstration of Darkwi-"

"Freljord is a lot more colder than him, know that."

Her expression was distasteful, had she not enjoyed his confidence she would have been much more cursing. She was worried indefinetly, yet in a regular way as a comrade would worry about an injured ally. Her struggle for power was unlike his though, she had it in her grasp like fire and air, though her political influence was limited compared with Swain who had the military in his grasp. While he manuevered whole armies, she traded and hired those of the blackest art and magic. While he conquered clans and villages, cutting off supply routes to cities; LeBlanc was eliminating key targets in both their plans. She was the true maiden of the Black Rose society, and incapable of replacing within beauty, style, grace and deadly efficiency.

"Where do you intend on going, Emilia?"

"I have my own errands to achieve, you have your own."

The golden bracers were the last thing Swain saw before a flourish of violet butterflies, they surrounded her original area before stopping in place, shattering like glass no later. She was gone, or in fact was never there in person. Her illusion had taken care of communication, yet the lady herself was probably with other underground commerce making a movement in utter secrecy. One thing was clear though, the Black Rose had made their choice steps and it was time Noxus under new leadership, would do the same.

"Beatrice... It's time."

The insectoid bird lifted its rested head, the beak prodding the air as Swain halted at the balcony of his chamber. Flapping its wings, the creature gave a loud caw into the empty sky; the Noxian warmachine was slowly dying down with the smoke it gave off. Finally pushing off of Swains wrist, the creature was again merged with onyx flames just like the shadowy effects from before. Entering the distant horizon just as the puny orange star lowered, painting the magenta sky black unto pure night.

Meanwhile far off to the north, a crystalline bow fires a signal into the sky.

To Be Continued...