((Those who signed up in the OOC thread have all been accepted. Those persons being: FreAK47, Silverling, CalebtheBaddest, Necromonger, and Grievous. Also, should he show up, then SwiftWinged as well.
Here is a link to the OOC thread: http://forums.na.leagueoflegends.com....php?t=4799704
Please: No God-Moding
Keep OOC chiefly to the OOC thread
And, story is not yet predetermined. the path and ending are subject to change based on actions made.
Let the fun commence!))
Woods North of the Great Barrier, Three Days Earlier
"Justicar Royal, what are we doing in this place? Do you really think the fugitive will be so close to the Institute still?" Inquired one of the many Justicar soldiers assigned with the task to hunt and track the fugitive -and former colleague- Summoner Lukros.
Dozens had been sent to search for the summoner, dozens within the League, as well as more than five scores of hired mercenaries. Mages and wizards affiliated with academies around Valoran had even volunteered to assist the League of Legends in finding a rogue summoner who stole valuable information regarding some very important, very forbidden phenomena. This text he stole had been housed at the Institute since its earliest days, and had been in the family of some high ranking and influential summoner families even longer than that. What was stolen referred to the Underworld, and not only that, but a Storm that could be seen only from a living mortal's eyes within the realm of the departed.
Justicar Royal was the only member of the group to remain standing while the others all made camp and had their lunch, he alone stood garbed in golden armor with a massive violet cape flowing from the paws of a lion mounted on each shoulder. Cool green eyes regarded the inquiring man with obvious disdain, but responded with total indifference. "It is not always the wisest action to hide as far as one can from their pursuer." Royal told the young soldier, he had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword - the head of a golden eagle. "At times it would serve best to hide in plain sight. The man we are hunting is a veteran summoner, the holder of very important, very dangerous information. He should be respected and feared."
"Is that why we are in the middle of nowhere, Sir Royal?" Inquired a second mouth, a man stuffing his face with buttered bread with some form of meat on it. Royal did not look at this one, his eyes only continuing to shift from one spot in the vast foliage and expansive horizon of trees anytime he heard a noise. He was vigilant at all times. "No. We are everywhere and anywhere that Nikolaus Lukros might be."
Their was the sound of rustling leaves not twenty feet from them, a bush moved just int he corner of Royal's vision. He turned, peering through his narrow visor to see the figure of a man watching them, the sun beating down on the strangers long white hair and suit of white and gold. His left arm was covered in what appeared to be decorative gold steel, studded and chained, while the right and the rest of the torso were in plain white. His eyes had two vertical red lines over them, his mouth in a wide and charming smile, obviously the face of one who was used to living a care free life.
But Royal did not like him. He did not like the looks of this stranger in white, and much less cared for the massively long sword held in his right hand. The blade was a pale blue, Runes of Malevolence lined the surface on either side. "Excuse me sirs, I seem to be lost." The man called out, and only then did many of the soldiers under Royal's orders realize they had a guest. Several jumped up to brandish swords and notch arrows directed at him.
Royal narrowed his eyes, he noted the man did not so much as flinch at this. He was no wanderer. He was not lost. He was right where he desired to be. "So the hunters have become the hunted, is that the way of it?" Royal's voice was loud and piercing, his soldiers stood a little bit straighter at the noise. but the mans smile grew wider.
"Oh, not at all. Their was no hunt, Justicar." Royal drew his blade in one swift motion at that remark, he pointed the blade at the stranger and was about to order they open fire when he felt something heavy and blunt smack him square between the shoulder blades, he fell forward and slid face first through broken twigs and leaves. He tried to move, hands, feet, anything. Nothing would. He could only blink and move his mouth. He tried to call out but the blow knocked the wind from his lungs too.
Within that same moment their were screams and shouts, men crying out to hold the line and to attack the intruders. Royal was desperate to look up and see what was happening and couldn't. It wasn't until he saw the face of one of his soldiers land in front of him that he realized he was a dead man. The hunt was over for him. The soldiers face had been parted down the middle by what was most likely a clean sword stroke. Royal couldn't stand it, he tried to call for help. "P-Please... Don't... I-I d-don't..."
Something grabbed him and lifted him by his collar, the lifter must've been a big and powerful man to break his back, then left a big man clad in steel with so much ease. Royal never saw the man though, he was facing the man with the black hair, his sword dark with the blood of Royal's allies. Not a drop of crimson on his fresh garb, not so much as a cut on his skin. The man was grinning, "It's a shame I have to kill you, Justicar Royal. I really don't like having to do this, you know? It's just... you see, don't you? Lukros can't afford to have you getting in his way all of the time."
"Stop, you've already killed me..." Royal gasped, the man was holding him by his neck and squeezing it. "I'm a warrior and you've broken me... Let me go, please. I won't tell."
The man had pale blue eyes, the color of the blade he wielded. they looked sad now as he regarded the broken Justicar warrior, the smile wavered only for a moment before coming back. He placed a kindly, bloodless hand on Royal's cheek, it was cool to the touch. Cool and soft. "Don't worry, soldier. I'll see you again. We all will."
"Y-you will? S-so you won't kill me then?" For a moment hope flared within his soul. Then, the man shook his head and raised a thin needle-like dagger to his throat. "Oh, no. I won't. I can't. they could just fix you up and send you off to war again. We will see you in the Underworld."
The last thing the screaming Justicar saw was the mans smile.
A notice had gone out to the general public about the disappearance of several of the League's people, and not only that, but mercenaries, mages, wizards, and others. The missing persons range all the way from Kaladoun, to the Great Barrier, To Bandle City. The notice included vague information about the fugitive, though without a name, a brief description of his crimes, and included quite a good deal about rewards and such.
While it did include a picture of the man, and it was an open bounty, so anyone could go after him and any accomplices at anytime, mercenaries and hunters were also free to come to the Institute to gather more information. The only plausible choice for any half decent hunter. Waiting at the Institute steps would be members of the Tribunal, all eager to explain.
((Enter how you see fit, some info on yourself, where you are, how you come to the Institute's gathering of mercenaries, soldiers, mages, and bounty hunters, and what your intentions are.))
http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/4708 - The Storm Swordsman, Deron Synthas.
// Guess who's returned from the dead? //
A hooded figure dressed in a heavy black coat shuffled amidst the heavy crowds of passerby in the heart of Bilgewater. An enormous, sheathed blade hung on his back, runic symbols carved into the moonstone covering, glowing with a ghostly, blue energy. Upon closer examination, the figure's hood was ornately designed to resemble a falcon, and a long, silver dagger was sheathed upon the figure's left sleeve.
A crowd of commoners gathered around a large, purple poster; an official notice posted by the League. Sensing opportunity, the figure shoves his way through the crowd, reaching the notice. The poster mentioned something about a rogue summoner who had stolen valuable League information and resources. Open bounty. However, the figure in the coat was not interested in the money to be made; something else had caught his eye.
The figure lifts his hood to reveal a thick head of white coloured hair and a young, haunted face. His eyes narrowed, still focused on the poster. However seemingly idle, his mind was racing.
That's him, Luna spoke, inside his head.
The one after the storm? Swift replied. It all added up. First an object of infinite power, then a missing summoner. He figured sooner or later someone would go after it.
Luna didn't reply. Sometimes she's frustratingly vague, he thought.
I heard that.
"Ten-thousand farthing! Aye'll be the one t' catch tha' ruddy thief, you wait and see," a sailor carrying a large battleaxe says to his buddy from behind Swift. Shaking his head, Swift turns around, leaving the collection of greedy mercenaries and pirates clustered around the notice. The hunt was on.
Shurima Desert, About 300 miles south east of the main pass through the Barrier
Jake looked over his people, smiling as they were finally at peace. After 3 years, their hunters were defeated, reported and imprisoned by the League for the Metallion Genocide, as Jake's people called it. They had returned to Breg'Ne and were returning to their lives. And for the first time he could rememebr, the look of fear was gone. No longer did they fear that the League would obiterate them at any second.
But there was still much to do for the FORMER king. Now that got him grinning. He had handed his title and position to Faer to lead their people. Leaving him to his own buisness. And he had caught word that the League was having a problem. He knew that there was a lot still left to do until his people were accepted. For the moment, they were tolerated.
He shouldered his pack and headed up the tunnel to the surface. He had on a traveling robe of light brown material, a long piece of fabric wrapping about his face below his eyes to help with the sand. He looked to a tent nearby were several of their mages waited, prepared to take him to the Institute of War. In only a few moments, he was surrounded by bright light as the desert faded away in the rainbow of colors he saw.
Near the Insititute
He stepped out a small copse of trees the spell had dropped him off in, about an hours walk from the Institute. He headed that way, lowering his hood as he walked.
Soon he starred up at the magnificat archtecture and stonework of the Institute's main entrance, finally having the time to truly study it. With a nervous smile, he walked towards a few summoners talking to others. He felt...honetly, at home. It surprised him quite a bit. That the one place he was terrified off for his entire life to suddenly appear..welcoming...was not what he expected. With a wide smile, he approached one of the Tribunal summoners. Let this be the first step... "Excuse me? I heard that the League was recruiting volunteers to help find a rogue summoner?"
((Large post inc... I... I just... Just kept writing... And writing... And writing...))
Demacian Slums, Basement of a Questionable Establishment
The loud sound of flesh meeting metal echoed through the low lit room. Lillian's frail body was thrown to the ground at the force of the hit she received to her face. A large man she knew as Volk stood in front of her wearing a studded gauntlet on one hand, his expression reflecting the displeasure he held for the woman. He spoke harshly to her in a gruff voice as she lay on the ground.
"You think this is funny, wench?"
Lillian slowly pushed herself up, spitting out a small glob of blood in the process. She looked up at the man and was about to speak when he suddenly knelt down and grabbed her by the neck, holding her up to his eye level. She made no effort to fight back, or even really any to hold herself up as the man continued to yell at her.
"You think after all these months of supplying you that I've simply forgotten about the payment you owe me?"
She struggled for gasp of air and wheezed out her response.
"Nnnhhgg.... I... I have... Th-th...."
Volk grunted and tossed her aside and into the opposite wall to him, of which she hit with a grunt and collapsed on the ground again. He approached her, grabbed her by her shirt collar, lifted her up once more, and growled his next question.
"Of course you do, rat. If you have what I asked for, then where is it?"
He drew his gauntlet covered hand back as if to hit her again. Instead of simply taking the blow, she shifted her gaze up at him and grabbed his face with her hand, her voice becoming monotone.
"I would appreciate it... If you would let me speak."
He completely froze for a few seconds, then slowly lowered his arm and released her. He swallowed hard and nodded to her as a motion for her to continue. She would push the man away from her slightly and rub the blood from her mouth and chin with her hand before continuing.
"I had the item you were looking for... Whatever magical idol That was. It was stolen from me on my way here three days ago. I was on my way to retrieve it when I was forcefully dragged here by your men. In other words, I know who took it and where it is, I have the information I can give you, not the object itself."
The man would curse and straighten up from his position, then would turn and kick a chair across the room.
"[Expletive] Lillian! I don't hire you so I can use MY resources to find priceless artifacts!!"
"... You hire me because I'm cheap and effective... Nor did you specify how you wanted it delivered."
He growled in frustration and mutter several unkind words in her general direction. He would focus his attention on her once more and crossed his arms in front of herself.
"Ugh... Where is it, then?"
The frail woman pushed herself up from the ground. She reached into her bag, pulled out a small piece of parchment, then would take his arm and press it into his hand. He blinked once at this action, then started putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
"You... You knew about this meeting?"
Lillian gave him a blank stare and rather casually replied.
"It was a dream I had."
"Why didn't you [Oh my!] fix the problem then!?"
"I shouldn't contest fate."
This only caused more swearing from the man. He looked ready to hit her again when the door to the room was opened and a younger man stepped through. he glanced between the two of them with wide eyes. He quickly shuffled over to him, handed him a rolled up parchment, then shuffled out of the room again. Volk unrolled the parchment and looked over its contents, then let out a hum before speaking again.
"This information you gave me, its not enough for your payment. You're going to need to do something else as well. Have you heard of the Infinite Storm, by chance?"
"Perfect. Come with me."
Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist and forcefully dragged her with him. He took her out of the basement room and down the hall, explaining her task as he went.
"There is a man that the Institute is searching for, some one who seems to be worth quite a bit in their eyes. Rumor has it that he stole valuable information about this Infinite Storm."
They reached a sort of storage room which he motioned for her to stay outside of the room while he was within. He continued to speak to her from the room while searching for whatever object he was seeking.
"From what my men have gathered, the Institute is gathering quite the force to find this man, and I want you to offer yourself as a seer, or whatever that dreaming of the future thing you do is."
Lillian bit her tongue at this sudden suggestion, but chose not to say anything of it. She was already in trouble for failing her previous job, and she was in no position of arguing this one. Volk emerged again and gestured for her to give him her arm, of which she complied to.
"You're going to go with them. Its hard to pass up a seer, even one as worthless as you are, and once you catch him, you will extract the information from him, and you are going to find the Infinite Storm and extract a part of its power using this..."
He slipped an intricate cuff bracelet onto her wrist which barely stayed on. The translucent gemstone began to very faintly glow a deep violet color.
"This is a special gemstone that stores magical energy that it comes in contact to. It seems I will have to have its setting adjusted for your pathetically bony wrists. Either way, no one will question it, after all its simply fancy jewelry, or its a special item that assists your abilities."
Lillian would swallow at his comments and would now speak her concerns.
"W-What if I fai--"
Volk quickly cut her question off.
"You best not return here alive, then, I will not tolerate another failure from you. But if you succeed... I will provide you the red essence for as long as you desire."
She remained silent as she weighed her choices presented in front of her. Eventually she nodded and gave her reply.
"Then I accept this task. Will you, ah, supply me for the journey?"
"I suppose that is only fair, but don't expect much from what I give you."
He took the cuff bracelet and walked away from her, leaving her alone in the hallway.
"You will leave as soon as the adjustments are made on this bracelet, I don't want to see you back here before you are finished."
A few days later, Institute of War
Lillian stepped through the halls of the Institute to the meetingplace for the mercenaries. She kept the hood of her cloak pulled low over her eyes and was fiddling with the bracelet on her arm, a slight tremble to her whole being as she walked. She didn't like it here, she could be searched and they could take away the essence she kept stowed away in her shoulder bag. If only she had not failed before, she shouldn't have let that idol get away from her so easily. She could feel herself succumbing to her cravings, she needed to consume the red essence, but she also needed to conserve what little she had. Perhaps she could find a supplier in another town...
Once she arrived, she stayed near the back of the room and was obviously there to join the other mercenaries, but didn't seem to have the courage to approach the summoner in charge of the event. She would probably need to either be coaxed forward or confronted personally for more information about herself.
The crowd of gathered mercenaries, bounty hunters and fortune seekers were quick to part when a small number of the Institute’s Noxian delegation of summoners arrived. This was partly because Noxians were a large source of the gathered sellswords, but also because of their familiarity with their own, and their respect for the strength of the figure that had come.
The Six summoners were followed by an older woman, in simple, dark brown journey mage attire, and carrying a curved blade. Her moderate, shoulder-length, auburn hair was tied behind her in a low hanging ponytail. Despite being of slightly advanced age, she got a few cat calls and rude, chauvanist remarks.
The non Noxians bellowed loudly at being made to stand aside, but respected the Institute’s Summoners request to be civil. This was their territory, after all.The Noxian Summoners show their courteous respect to the gathered Tribunal, and introduce their guest. She was of modest build and stature, but her eyes blazed with power.
“Honored tribunal, Mighty Noxus proudly lends the might of one of her own, to aid the Institute’s cause... Lady Septima Thralk.” One of the Summoners said, with a voice just enough to carry to the tribunal’s ears.
The name got a rise out of the Noxian crowd, a few gasps here, a few questions there. A few turn their backs on the job, leaving, citing competition and the risk of friendly fire. The lady herself chuckled privately. She remained modest and bowed slightly, as was diplomatic etiquette when dealing with the Institute. She then took a glance around, eyeing the rabble and having a slight smirk on her mouth. Nothing impressive, she thought, seeing dirty brigands, a few pirates and a few more odd balls, all wearing hoods like it was quickly going out of fashion. "Really now? Did I miss a memo that we were to all wear hoods? Or am I the only one who isn't embarrassed of their own face?" She remarked sarcastically. Seriously, what was it with mercenaries and hoods?
Septima awaited to be addressed, and held her judgment on the more... interesting people around.
((Oh how I hope this is correct.))
Warwick entered the institute, easily recognized by all, and he seemed more strange but looked happy. He had found out about the rogue summoner, smiling to himself when at first he thought only a fool would go. But then again...he would able to finally inflict the pain he wanted to on summoners, and especially show them his fury and why he hated being controlled and held on a leash. He walked by a few summoners, and growled beneath the noise they made. He made it to the steps though and look at the tribunal summoners. "I'd like to participate in the hunt." Was all he said, he wanted to keep these reasons confidential...
The subterranean domain of the summoners of the League of Legends was massive, the cavern leading to the front steps alone the size of several city blocks. Large spheres of eery blue light floated around the perimeter, the glow made cavernous spikes on the roof and floor look like demon teeth ready to rise up and devour the soul.
Their were dozens, hundreds even, cramped into the space before the giant marble and stone steps leading to the grand Institute of War; some were big, others small, their rogues, wizards, hunters, warriors, men and women with bows, firearms, swords, axes, foreign and other outlandish gears. All were gathered in their bland, and some in extravagant attire, with a singular purpose: not justice, not for the sake of doing right or upholding law, though, maybe a few odd balls were. But no, reward, adventure, glory. The life motto of any true bounty hunter and adventurer.
Surrounding them, like shadows in the darkness despite the blue glow of the spheres and the burning light of torches mounted on the Institute steps, were the summoners and the Justicar warriors. Despite the light they remained almost invisible, they lurked in unseen corners and within the crows to make sure nobody tried to start trouble. The League was on high-alert and any foolish enough to cause problems here or around this place, would be dealt with swiftly and most severely.
At the top of the spiraling, marvel that was the stairs, standing vigilant before the enormous doors that protected the most sanctified halls of the summoners and their secrets, was a Judge of the Tribunal, and he was flanked by half a dozen specially trained Justicar's in silver. Or, they were supposed to, at least. They did nothing to keep Lukros, one of their trusted brethren, from stealing powerful texts and Runes and fleeing the place, permanently maiming over a dozen summoners in doing so. He personally ended the career, and for some, their lives, of over two dozen men and women sworn to protect Valoran.
Numerous tables had been placed in front of the steps, at each was a trio of summoners signing up people for the hunt, taking wagers, trying to make light of a serious situation. They were doing anything to raise interest to find and apprehend Nikolaus Lukros, the "Taint". It was at one of these tables that summoner heard one inquire, as most did, "Excuse me? I heard that the League was recruiting volunteers to help find a rogue summoner?" Something in the way this person spoke made the mage look up, and when he did, he looked away and quickly did a double take.
He must have been surprised because other summoners took note of his expression and looked at the bounty hunter as well. "Y-you, are you supposed to be?" The man doing the writing looked to his colleague on the left, who nodded. The writer cleared his throat and resumed, quill to parchment. "Your name, sir?"
Some time during the Noxian groups arrival the Judge began to speak. The Judge was hooded, vlad in purple with pauldrons of gold steel on either shoulder and his upper chest. He held a scepter in his right hand, one that resembled an emerald eye, and a sheathed sword in the other. His hands had steel gauntlets, boots golden steel boots, numerous bangles and gems hanging off of him. His voice was loud and imperious, everyone became silent as he started.
"Citizens of Valoran, I am Tribunal Judge Aremonis Fairchild, And I welcome you to the Institute of War. It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all that the organization you have all come to trust and look to for support, has been betrayed. It has been betrayed by one of our most eager, and among our most trusted brothers: Summoner Nikolaus Lukros." The Judge lifted his scepter and banged the butt of it against the stone beneath his feet. In a whirl of multi-colored lights and flashes, images began to flood the cavern. Chief among those images was the man in question, a surprisingly young looking summoner with bright, happy green eyes, a charming smile, long, golden hair that he tied into a perfect ponytail. He was wearing summoner robes over a leather cuirass, and otherwise steel armor, a spiraling sword of white light in his hand, a leather-bound book in the other, and he was wearing glasses. All-in-all a charming, handsome young man. Not what most would expect of a villain.
"Do not let his pretty smile and eyes fool you," He said once more, as if reading their minds. "This man defeated many of our order. He wounded, he killed, he stole without prejudice. This Taint has violated our most sacred laws, and has jeopardized the lives of every single one of you." To emphasize this the Judge pointed to each with the emerald eye scepter. "Already he has killed several mercenaries who carelessly underestimated him and, we believe, his new allies. What you need to know is this: We are willing to pay top coin for stopping him. The only lead we are able to provide to you at this time, since magic has been of no use to us, is that the Taint is looking for the entrance to the Underworld. He searches for the Gate. This... is unacceptable. I tell you all now, the Gate, the chief entrance to the Underworld -because their are many- is buried beneath Mount Gargantuan. Finish logging your information with the summoner and go forth, find and stop this man."
The Judge, the four silver Justicars, as if one, all turned at once as the gates to the Institute opened with a massive groan. The five disappeared into a shroud of shadows moments later, leaving the rest to finish their business.
Haven Bay, Demacia. Conqueror's Sea.
The new harbormaster looked out to sea, his face a mask of grim anticipation. The manifest stated that today would be the day he would return. The infamous Captain Flint was never late. The harbormaster rose as a black mist rolled into the harbor, gliding gently over the still waters. He turned and signaled to the watchtower, then returned his gaze to the harbor as the arrival bell tolled. Through the black mist, a magnificent ship billowed into view. The eyes on the grinning skull anointed on the bow seemed to pierce the harbormaster's soul as he stared into their fathomless depths. He shuddered and looked away, noticing several holes in the ships flank. Despite how many times he'd seen it happen, he was always astonished to see the black mist knitting the ancient wood back together as the ship repaired itself. The harbormaster sighed as the anchor dropped and started to make his way down to the docks to greet the privateer.
The clear voice of the Mastiga's second mate Kira Acer rang out over the bustle of the crew. "Stow those sails! Secure the mast tackle and heave that swag to shore!" A short, pudgy man snorted as he passed the second mate, glowering at her. "The capt'n don't pay ya to 'ollar at us girly. Put that pretty body o yers ta work." Kira's eyes narrowed at the deckhand. In the blink of an eye, she brought the rifle from her shoulder to level at the small man, the barrel pointed right between his eyes. "Mispeak to me again, bosun, and my pretty body will be the last thing you see." Before the officer could snarl a reply, another voice of the crew shouted "Captain on deck!" A gloved hand lay on Kira's rifle, diverting it away from the deckhand. "Belay that, Kira. Must we have another talk about that temper of yours?" Grimmore Merlough stepped besides his second mate, his remaining sunset colored eye giving her a stern yet gentle look. Kira slung the rifle back over her shoulder and scoffed irritably, but looked down at the deck in shame. "He was asking for it...But it won't happen again, sir." Grimmore simply nodded once, then turned his gaze at the deckhand who was quietly attempting to sneak away. "As for you, Oren, you will treat your superior officers with more respect. I will not have any of that bilge on my ship. Are we clear?" Oren swallowed hard and nodded. "A-aye, capt'n." Satisfied, Grimmore headed towards the boat that would take him ashore. "You all have work to do. Step to."
Outside the Demacian Palace.
Grimmore stared at the parchment the servant gave him, his annoyance plain in his voice. "So the welp would have me become a bounty hunter?" The servant, clearly uncomfortable in Grimmore's presence, shifted slightly as he continued. "Erm, well, not exactly. During the summoner's escape, several Demacian lives were lost. The King wishes for retribution, and the Prince-" Grimmore interrupted the servant with a snide "The welp." Despite his discomfort, the servant let his irritation with the disrespect Grimmore showed be known. "-The Prince, recommended you for the opportunity. His majesty wishes it so." Grimmore looked down at the wanted poster once more, his eye narrowing. He suddenly turned on his heel, his cape billowing behind him as he strode away from the palace. He left his last bitter words hanging in the air behind him. "For the king."
Grimmore's gaze swept over the crowd of mercenaries, hunters, soldiers, rogues, and outlaws. He wondered why Jarvan had sent him here among this rabble, but he was in no position to argue. He looked around at the summoners in the room. The League was supposedly the most powerful organization in Runterra. Yet they leave their dirty work to the low lives for a pretty bit of coin. One of the robed summoners approached him, parchment and quill hovering in the air beside him. He addressed Grimmore almost lazily. "Name." Grimmore simply brushed past the summoner. He had no intention of dealing with them any more than learning the job. The summoner started after him, grabbing at his cloak. "Hey! I asked your name you-" Grimmore whirled on him, his pistol lodged squarely under the summoner's chin. The summoner went still, his eyes fearful and locked onto the weapon pointed at him. Grimmore payed no heed to the crowd or the other summoners. He spoke softly, the dangerous threat in his tone eminent. "No one. Touches. The cape." The summoner managed a tiny whimper. After a moment, Grimmore let his gun fall. Returning it to it's holster, Grimmore simply said "Name's Flint." Moving away from the shaking summoner, he looked around the crowd more. He noted an elderly woman, surrounded by summoners that looked like they were her personal guard. Looking around further, he spotted a sickly looking girl dwelling in the shadows near the back of the room. She looked like she would have trouble lifting a bucket of sand let alone taking down a dangerous fugitive. He came over to her, leaning against the wall a few feet away. "I think you may be in the wrong place, lass."
(( Prepare for several thousand pictures ))
The Chateau of Ridley Bouchard
Ridley sits submerged to the neck in a pool of milk set into the floor of her personal bathroom. Numerous mirrors adorn the walls however instead of showing reflections each one is acting as a scrying glass to one of her servants glass eyes. Ridley was happy to be off summoner duty that day, with all the chaos of one of her colleagues gone rogue everyone was bustling about and she was not interested in scurrying to defend the leagues secrets.
With a flick of her wrist the 100 candles her servants arranged around the room burst into a pale flame, she sits with her eyes closed however with so many nearby she doesn't need her eyes to see the servant stumbling along towards her. The old man a prisoner of war who never made his way back to his home waited behind her knowing that she would acknowledge him when ready. "What do you want"she says in that prim aristocratic accent of hers without turning to look at the man.
He hesitates she knows that ever since he entered her service he has feared her, and rightly so. He clears his throat briefly before speaking up in his shaky voice "The institute has just sent a message for you your excellency, they require you to assist in the capturing of the Rogue Summoner"
. " ****" she thinks at this knowledge "Cavorting about with the unwashed masses on a manhunt? Sounds riveting" she says with a small smile; with this smile the old man relaxes a bit seeing the Lady in a good mood. "Very well have one of the thralls fetch my palanquin, I shall dress and wait in the main hall do not be late!" the man hovers behind for a second causing her to let out a savage "NOW!" which causes all the candle flames to rise up angrily.
The Institute of War
Ridley arrives upon her ebony and silver palanquin"]high above the commoners held by four muscular men causing quite a spectacle as she arrives closer to the institute. She is a figure both beautifully eerie and commanding with smooth olive skin covered in an ebony gown which accentuates her sizable bust. She wears shoes along with her normal long braid styled into a hairstyle that while archaic gives her a sense of regalness to those who observe her.
Both shouts of adoration and hate are sent her way, several poorer Noxian families throw roses her way in hope that she will help support their children in some way as local legend says she will. She does not turn to anyone until keeping he head straight until one of her former lovers who had made some bad business decisions and become poor throws a fist sized rock at her, a black nailed left hand adorned with several rings flies up in the blink of an eye catching the stone without her even looking at it. She turns to the crowd hazel eyes easily honing in on the transgressor she flutters her fan in her right hand and gives the man a smile, She brings the stone to her full lips and seductively blows on it causing the stone to fall away and reveal a bright red apple which she then tosses the apple to a small child nearby. Ridley eyes one of her fellow summoners indicating the man who tried to assault her, he is quickly snatched up by the summoners and removed from the premises. Ridley lets out a satisfied "hmph" before snapping her fingers twice making her servants carry her further without another word to the crowd.
Ridleys men approach the steps and halt completely ignoring the lines that are set up.One of her men brings a horn up to her lips so that she can instruct him without raising her voice, He takes the horn from her when she is finished and speaks in a deep baritone of a voice. "The esteemed Lady Ridley, Evangeline, Sarafine,Bouchard, summoner of the league greets the Tribunal with honor along with her condolences to the families of her fallen colleagues. She is prepared to assist in this endeavor as mandated by the League!" As the man speaks Ridley does not say a word instead she only looks up at the Tribunal.
Lillian stared forward as the judge spake and projected images on the walls. She seemed to be in a sort of trance, but was absorbing the information given to the crowd. This was only interrupted when Grimmore spoke to her.(I assume he did at least) She turned her head and looked at him, but he would note that she didn't seem to be actually looking at him, but more through him. She blinked one at his comment and responded in a monotone voice.
"I could say the same thing to several others that are here."
She returned to stareing forward and continued her thoughts.
"You judge me by my appearance, much like everyone else here has been, but I promise you that one I declare myself there will be very few who would not want me as their ally.... Though as they say n it is first come first serve, so I recommend staying close."
She promptly approached one of the nearby tables to sign up at, and when asked her name, she gave a simple answer.
"Lillian Faye, seer."
She then turned and attempted to return to the previous location where she was standing.
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