League Judgment - Swain

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RiotBabagahnoosh

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10-04-2010
1 of 2 Riot Posts

Candidate: Swain
Date:
4 October, 20 CLE

OBSERVATION

Swain arches his neck toward the words that hang over the massive double doors. “The truest opponent lies within.”

“How quaint.”

Swain’s voice sounds surprisingly robust for such a seemingly frail figure. His uniform – more robe than military dress – is wrapped tightly about him, especially around his face. He stands crookedly; he leans on a cane to support himself, but not overly so. It does not seem out of place to see a strange-looking raven perched on his shoulder. Perhaps this is to whom Swain is speaking.

“Let’s see who the League believes my truest opponent is – shall we?”

The raven nods its head in affirmation.

Swain deftly raps on the double doors with the head of his cane. They split, revealing blackness within. The engraved panthers along either side of the double doors point inward.

There is a slight smirk on his face as he enters.

REVELATION

The ink on the Noxian and Demacian armistice had been but a few years dry before the first “incident” took place between the powerful city-states. It was right in the midst of that botched mission, at the moment of execution, where Swain now found himself at. He could see the platform where the young prince was standing, his back turned, oblivious to his plight. The poison-bolted hexbow felt heavy in Swain’s hands.

“I am impressed. I didn’t expect it to be so real.”

He scanned the darkened balcony overlooking where the Demacian royals were standing. The cold night air was brisk. Swain breathed, inhaling deeply. “And accurate. This is nearly intoxicating.”

“What is, Swine?” A commanding voice mocked the Noxian. Jarvan IV, the Exemplar of Demacia, Crown Prince of the same, now stood on the balcony. His presence lorded over Swain. Jarvan was no longer the thirteen-year old child prince that Swain had been sent to dispatch. “How’s the leg?”

“You even know about that. Powerful,” Swain commented, raising his cane to his chin, “but alas, not powerful enough for me, summoner. Enough.”

Jarvan looked stunned, and just a little bit confused.

“I do not play games – I make them. We are both aware of what I think happened during the mission you’re recreating here. You know how I truly feel about my weaknesses. You clearly know who I am, seeing as how you’re so blatantly ransacking my memories.” Swain happily leered at Jarvan. “Unless I am mistaken, this should satisfy half of your prerequisite needs for a champion’s entry into the League.”

“It does?” a less-commanding Jarvan asked. His countenance was considerably less Demacian now. He paused for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, perhaps it does. We acknowledge your power, Swain of Noxus.”

The Demacian prince was no longer standing before Swain. Where he had stood there was now an older, strikingly beautiful woman in a purple summoner’s robe. The robe was highly ornate, unlike most of the other robes Swain had seen in his time. The female summoner bowed. “We would ask, however, that you please honor the League with a formal acknowledgement.”

Swain chuckled and nodded. “High Councilor Vessaria Kolminye – I am honored. I was not aware that someone of your stature conducted screenings personally. Is there a chance I could expect you to personally summon me into a battle arena?” Swain was clearly enjoying this exchange.

“Charming, as always, Master Tactician.” The High Councilor smiled thinly. “Your formal acknowledgement, if you would be so kind.”

Swain bowed deeply, kicking his cane out with a flourish. “Of course. With all due respect.”

The Noxian clutched his cane to stand straight. “You would ask of me how it feels to share my mind with a summoner. As you can see, I face little challenge in managing such a relationship. While my secrets are laid bare to the summoner that calls upon me, I know that they would not be used against me by the League. Such a violation of trust is against everything the League stands for... especially in these most tense of times when the League needs the cooperation of its client city-states.”

High Councilor Kolminye nodded approvingly. “Thank you, and yes – the knowledge exchanged in the bond is private between champion and summoner. You have nothing to fear.”

“Nor do you.” Swain bowed again, keeping his eyes locked on the High Councilor.

A tense pause was broken by the High Councilor. “Why do you want to join the League, Jericho Swain?”

Swain took the question in. The slight smug look that he had worn throughout the entire Judgment was gone. He stared straight into High Councilor Kolminye’s eyes. “To become the next ruler of Noxus, of course.” Swain pointed the head of his cane at the High Councilor. “The League will help me accomplish this.”

“The League does not arbitrarily choose sides in the matters of the city-states of Valoran, nor does it –”

Swain put his index finger to his lips. “You know what I mean... don’t you, Vessaria?”

The High Councilor paused once more. “Yes, I do. But you’ll have to earn the influence you need. It won’t come easily.” The High Councilor permitted herself the slightest of sneers. “Especially for you.” Her eyes were as two red embers, flickering intensely. “But that is not all, is it, Master Tactician?”

Swain nodded. “Indeed, it is not. Your Judgment... it is quite the ritual. It is more powerful than I had given you credit for.” He leaned in to the High Councilor’s left ear, a breath’s distance away.

Swain’s voice was soft, but every word hung on the air as he spoke. “I want to kill Jarvan IV, the ‘Exemplar’ of Demacia.” He smiled at the High Councilor, still close to her ear. “I will kill him too, Vessaria.”

High Councilor Kolminye locked eyes with Swain for one last time. She raised her right hand to his cheek. “We shall see, Jericho.”

A flood of light washed over them both, and Swain found himself alone in the chamber. A new set of double doors were in front of him, already opened. The League had found its latest champion.


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Icettiflow

Member

10-04-2010

I am looking forward to seeing Swain in the Fields of Justice. Perhaps under my control.


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Noellyn

Member

10-04-2010

Ohhh I can't wait to play him!


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Emuticus

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Member

10-04-2010

hnnng. I like.


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AstorSapolsky

Senior Member

10-04-2010

REVELATION

The Raven he had known and loved all his life was locked back in a cage. A bead of sweat crawled down Swain's neck... he expected the League to pick out a dark memory, but to call upon this one was almost inhumane.

"Caw, caw!" cried the Raven, pleading for Swain to save him.

"Come on Swain, save your pet!" taunted his old childhood bully, Jeremy McMann, interrupting his daze, "save your girlfriend!"

"You guys! Stop it! This isn't fair! Give her back!"

Swain tried to jump up and grab the cage from their hands, but they were too tall and Swain was a gimp. They shook and rattled the cage, with his bird, his lover, crying for help. No matter what he tried, he couldn't beat them. Then an idea struck... he would fight brute force with strategy. Spying their schoolteacher nearby, and remembering the rubber band, slice of ham, and fourteen paperclips in his pocket, his plan soon came to fruition.

Swain cried. Even if he knew it was all an illusion, he knew he had to defeat his bully for the League to take him seriously. He cried, and bawled, and wept as loud as he could. Just as it had happened in the past, the teacher noticed him and took the cage from the bully's hands.

"Shame on you, picking on a gimp like that! You know he doesn't have any friends!"

Swain smiled slyly to himself, knowing his cunning plan had succeeded. It was a risk, but even a master tactician has to play against the odds sometime.

Having freed his bird-wife, as he clutched the cage to his chest, the bird turned to him and said, "why do you wish to join the League, Swain?"

This was not at all startling as the Raven asked him this many times on their way to the Judgment.

"I told you, my sweet, to fight for man-bird rights! We should be able to love just as any man and woman or Yordle and Yeti does!"

"That's stupid," said the Raven in an entirely different, masculine voice, "but at least it's nothing moronic like wanting a hairbrush back. I guess you'll do."

Suddenly he was back in the Great Hall. He had passed his test. He jumped with glee, but in his leg's condition it snapped in half. Crying tears of joy and pain, he grabbed on to the Raven's leg as it tried to fly, slowly dragging the pitiful, broken figure out the doorway.

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Edit: oh, when will I leave the poor old man alone? I've recently started to campaign (see: harass) Riot to give his transformed state the Surfin' Bird dance.


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Dracozero

Senior Member

10-04-2010

Very deep.

I love how this chracter seems to be, capable of keeping his mind cold in that atmosphere.


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Cycrum

Senior Member

10-04-2010

Very nice story


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Erinn

Senior Member

10-04-2010

Nice story there!


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Berrix

Senior Member

10-04-2010

Swain is one intense dude, I love him already.

Afterthought: Seems that we may see "The Exemplar of Demacia" Jarvan in the future as well. Things getting intense indeed.


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Hozartis

Senior Member

10-04-2010

I really liked this one. This story is getting deeper and deeper. Too good!


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