Darius let out an angry roar. Her words. Her words were so irritating, so grating, so stupid. How dare she?
Swain, however, if one could see underneath his mask, smiled at the Hand of Noxus' display.
"I believe that Noxus is meant to be a name that is not feared for its strength, but respected. Not to trample its people underneath, but to help bring them up to your own strength, because without them, Swain? You can sit in your chair, strong, powerful, intelligent, and reign over your kingdom of dirt. I know this to be true. I will bring Noxus back to life, I will make it a name respected, not feared." Riven reached up above her, grabbed her sword's hilt and started to run alongside the Nexus, shearing through stone and steel.
Her voice carried a strong ring of confidence, of conviction, of strength as she spoke. "Let me assure you of one thing, Noxus is broken. I can see the signs, and I know this to be true because I was broken once. Hate me, love me, worship me, threaten me, I do not care. I do not want your sympathy, I want you to understand why." Riven tore her sword out, the Nexus started to shudder, and let out the telling sign that victory was achieved. "My name is Riven. I am the first Exile of Noxus, a broken city state. I know this to be true because I was broken once. I know what it is like to be broken. And because I know that, I can know this..."
Riven's voice boomed, easily heard across all of Summoner's Rift, "What is broken can be reforged!"
"VICTORY FOR THE PURPLE TEAM!"
Darius slammed the crystal screen onto the wall, shattering it completely. He stormed towards the door before stopping himself. He looked over at Swain and growled, "May I be excused, Grand General?"
"You may, General Darius. We shall convene tomorrow. Now, I will personally address this criticism she launched. Tonight, we think, we plan. Tomorrow, we talk."
Darius nodded and left the room, each step he took sounding like the final scream of a man.
That evening, Darius made his way towards a familiar tavern, "The Sweaty Apple". A fairly silly name, but it had good drinks and was his preferred watering hole. Darius shoved the entrance door open, his face illuminated by the electrical lights which showed his blood of others caked on his sharp facial features. He made his way towards a table, his table, with his axe dragging behind him. Everyone knew Darius' table, and everyone knew better than to get in his way when he wanted a drink.
The ogre of a man sat down on an almost comically small chair, leaned on the table and grumbled to himself. He placed his axe on the wall near him, the notches in the wood showing how often he rested it there.
"Hey, looks like we got ourselves a grumpy as*hole." The hand of the offending voice slapped the back of Darius' head. "Izzat what you are, as*hole? An as*hole?"
Darius got up from his seat, grabbed the table instead of his axe, and smacked the insulter before placing it back down on the floor.
The zombified brute reeled back from the force, but not from pain. He was as big as Darius, as meaty as him but the immediate difference between the two was that Darius was alive, and this man was not. This was made evident by the stench of rotted flesh, the zombified man's green skin showing clear signs of necrosis and the skeletal hand that he had struck the Hand of Noxus with. A large, double headed axe was strapped to double barrel wide back while in his other hand a large frosty mug of ale was held.
With an overly toothy grin, the zombie replied by head butting Darius, making him sit down from the impact. Sion sat down next to him and let out a deep throated laugh, which almost sounded like his lungs being played by an epileptic tuba player.
"Sion. Where is Draven?"
"Aw, you know he'll be here soon. He had a busy schedule t'day." The zombie slammed the ale in front of Darius. "Also, here. Saw the idiot's speech. Drink's on me."
Darius grunted, grabbed the mug and downed half of its frosty contents in a single gulp. Sion sat down across from the Hand of Noxus, the zombie's soulless, red eyes scanning the man. "Got to you that bad, huh?"
"A traitor dares spout such nonsense," Darius growled. "And broadcasted across Valoran? Noxus is finally unified after all this time. And what will she bring? Civil war, if her words hold any sort of sway with the common person."
"Yeah...if," Sion let out a deep sigh. It was strange that a zombie such as him could still breath, and if it were not for all the decayed flesh, one could mistake him as still living rather than undead. "Noxians, they're different today. Y'prolly missed th'stuff afterwards, huh?"
Sion shook his head, a stray piece of hair that perilously clung to his skull peeled off and floated onto the table. "After y'left, Swain addressed the little ****, and he wasn't happy, oh no. He was reaming into her, and she wasn't havin' none of that. Then, in the middle of their argument Steed, th'***** Morgana and even lil'Annie came up. I was there 'cuz hell, if I had the chance, I'd tear th' traitor's pompous head off and bring her polished skull for us to drink out of, but, y'know...stupid League."
Darius could tell, despite the pupiless eyes of Sion, that his friend was quite upset with the fact that he could no longer kill who he wanted when he wanted. It was something that the zombified soldier lived with on a day to day basis. A relic of a bygone time.
"Anyhoo!" Sion slammed the table. He had sidetracked himself and tried to go back to what he was talking about. "That's when the little brat made her teddy kick the Grand General."
"...She did what."
"Y'heard me," Sion grunted. He drummed the table with his fingers, growling aloud, "If Steed didn't interrupt with his ****, book deal this, interview that, then it woulda been a bloodbath, I swear. But nooo..."
Darius' attention wavered as the subject of three men gossiping nearby became prevalent. They were barely audible to most, but Darius could hear them as clear as day..
"It was...nice, to see a Noxian capable of...of that, of that kinda warmth, y'know?"
"Did you see the look in her eyes? It's...It's so different. Kinda weird, I haven't even seen that look in my wife's eyes."
"It was a bit weird, I gotta admit. They looked...They looked like she understood, y'know?"
"If you think about it, Riven made some pretty valid points: why are we like this? How did Noxus get to be like this?"
The man that realized Darius glaring at them slapped his friends, and pointed at the Hand of Noxus with a nudge of his head. The other two fell instantly quiet.
Too little, too late.
"No dissent," Darius growled. He got up, finished his drink off and stormed over to the men. He glowered at the trembling trio. "Continue your conversation. Which of you think that woman is anything else but a traitor?"
The men looked at Darius, clearly terrified of him. None of them replied.
"I ask once more, which of you is being a dissident? Which of you dares speak against Noxus?" Darius reached over and grabbed one of their heads, his hand surprisingly able to encapsulate the top of the poor man's skull. "This safety is what Noxus ensures, what strength brings us. Unity through strength, and you dare question it? If you do, then that same strength can be and will be used to crush the weak that dare oppose it. She is weak. Noxus is not."
None of the men replied. Darius considered leaving them alone, evident by his release of the man's head and him turning around. He took two steps towards his table when one of them opened their foolish mouths. "Wh-what...what is the point of strength?"
Darius' eyes flashed red. That question grated his ears, it sounded like knives across a chalkboard. He reached over, grabbed the offending man's throat and heaved him towards Sion. "Dinner's on me."
Sion grinned, caught the man and promptly scalped him with the sharp edges of his bony hand.
The other two men looked up at Darius, quivering. He stared at them, they were talking with the dissenter. No mercy. The Hand of Noxus reached out towards another one of them, the man screamed in fear. He was weak. He had no backbone. How was he alive this long? No point for such a worm to exist in Noxus. Darius' hand wrapped around his neck, the man struggled, oh he did, but he was too weak. Darius slammed him onto the top of the bar, wood creaking from the impact.
The bartender looked over and shrugged. Nothing surprising to him, not in Noxus.
The man in Darius' grip squirmed, and gasped, "Y-you...you d-d-didn't *GASP* answer..."
"The point of strength is to rule over others. You deserve to rule over all if you are the strongest, that is the point of strength. If they refuse to subjugate to you, then you must reign them in."
"Th-then...*HURK* W-why is Swain ruling?"
Darius' eyes went wide with rage. He literally picked the man off the bar table, then pushed him downwards, snapping him backwards and forcing his spine to snap in half. Blood seeped out from the man's slowly tearing stomach, Darius almost did not notice the other one trying to escape through the window. The Hand of Noxus reached out for his axe, grabbed its shaft and was about to apprehend him when a buzzsaw was heard. The last man was one foot over the windowsill when he gurgled, teetered a bit, then half of him flopped back into the tavern while the other half flopped outside.
The doors burst open, a finely mustachioed man stepped in with his brightly colored clothing, his gelled up hair and his huge chin that would make most men envious. "Draven's in the house!"
He strutted over to Darius, grinning like a complete goofball as he bowed towards his brother. "Why hello there tall, dark and handsome, what're you doin' round these parts? Don't tell Draven, he already knows. It looks like he's havin' a drink with a friend. Draven's hurt! You didn't wait for him!"
The man laughed and held a hand out towards the windowsill. "You tried to execute some schlubs, and you were gonna take the last one! I'm hurt, really I am, which is why I decided to take initiative."
The sound of a buzzsaw was heard once more, roaring towards the window. Draven whistled while he patiently waited, Darius discarded the corpse into a corner while Sion watched the ensuing spectacle with a freshly skinned, cracked open skull in hand. A thump on the wood, and a pair of strange axes whizzed through the window towards Draven, who caught them by the center rings and flicked them back into a single unit. "And that, boys, and hopefully some fine ladies, is how Draven does what he does best..." He struck a quick pose, his muscles bulging in emphasis. "He does it all: With style."
Draven let out a laugh, sauntered over to the table and sat in his seat. He snapped his fingers which made a buxom bar wench walk over with his drink. "Thanks babycakes. Yer always on time, Draven time."
"Will you cut that out?" Darius growled.
"What? Bro, come on, relax a bit. It's just the Axecutioners now! Get a drink, sit on yer ass and let's cheers."
Sion agreed with Draven's sentiments with a nudge of his head, which made Darius groan in annoyance. "We are not, the Axecutioners. We go over this every time you say it: That is a stupid name."
"Then why was our squad called tha', eh?"
"Because you put the paperwork in to call it that."
Draven laughed, "And who's fault is that, Mister I-Hate-Triplicate?"
"You could have chosen a better name."
"You didn't like Draven and the Dravenaughts, what choice did I have?!"
Sion grunted, "And besides, you said it once."
Darius let out another sigh. He sat at the table and pointed at Draven, "You, never say that name again." He pointed at Sion, "And you. I was drunk."
"Uh huh. Sure y'were. Draven, remind me, was it after the first or tenth shot that-"
"You will not speak of that incident," Darius snapped at Sion, who guffawed in response.
Draven started chuckling uncontrollably, "Nah nah, it was more like-"
"I will gut you if you finish that sentence."
The men fell silent. Then Darius burst out in a fit of deep-throated laughter, despite the corpses and bloodshed about them. He motioned to the bartender to come over. The bartender walked over with several mugs of ale on a tray and placed it on the table. Darius eased into his chair, and tried to relax.
Yet, he could not get Riven's words out of his head. Every time he thought of them, the grating annoying feeling came back. Those words, those ideas, those concepts that...that philosophy, was stupid. The problem he was having, was that he could not refute them properly. Noxus was still standing, set in its history, in its tradition, yet...The attack done by the Zaunites, commanded by the Noxian generals at the time, he could not dismiss that. Did Darkwill make the command? The records say otherwise, he would not disbelieve them but what she said about that attack was true, how cowardly, how stupid it was. Yet how could the image of Noxus, the poster child, associate with those...those...Ionians? And live with them?
What a sickening thought. She might as well live in a mud hut and live with the pigs, with how backwards those people were. He put such thoughts out of his mind, he was right. Noxus was still standing, and she was an eye and ear sore.
She would pay the price for her betrayal. That would be Noxian justice, and she would pay for it as she should. Riven was a traitor, she was weak, she would die, but by whose hand? It mattered not, but he had to admit, he would prefer if it was by his hand that her life was taken. He wanted to be rid of her annoying voice, of her annoying face, of her annoying eyes. Her eyes, damn those eyes.
They were full of sorrow.
Swain walked into his bedroom, still adorned in his armor. He slipped off the breastplate, hung it on a coat rack, made his way over into a velvet seat and sat down on it with an audible thump. The Grand General waited quietly in the dark for quite some time until a purple light filled the room. LeBlanc stepped into view, smiling at Swain.
“Today could have gone better,” she cooed.
Swain nodded in response. “It is no matter. She will be dealt with in time. Tomorrow, however...” His eyes narrowed. “Will you begin tomorrow?”
“With Jarvan? The seeds will start to sprout tomorrow, Jericho, darling. And while those sprout...” LeBlanc walked over to Swain and sat on his lap. His hands came up and held her in place. “We will figure out what to do with the rest. We must make plans for Annie, figure out what can be done with the Fallen One, perhaps set some things into motion in Ionia, gain the allegiance of some sooner rather than later, and be ready to crush her. Besides, dear, did you see how Darius reacted? Oh, give him the time, give him the space, and he will be ready to crush Riven under his boot.”
Beatrice hopped over to Swain’s cheek and nuzzled him, as though she were echoing LeBlanc’s words.
“But!” The Deceiver caressed his chin soothingly. “That can wait till tomorrow, my Grand General. For now, rest. All is taken care of.”
Swain nodded and pressed his forehead against LeBlanc’s. “Tomorrow it is.”
The Deceiver removed herself from his lap, took a few steps away then disappeared into the wall. Swain shuffled over to his bed, his red eyes not showing fatigue. Instead, he looked over at his desk, walked towards it with broad strides and sat down on the chair there.
There was no sign of a limp in his walk, and as his eyes glowed a sickly green, he started to write. Tonight, he could skip sleep. He had plans to come up with. Swain reached around his desk, pulled open a drawer and flipped through some folders. He pulled one out saying, ‘Voodoo Lands’, and set it on the table. He had found the Grey Order once, and kept their coordinates recorded for just such an occasion. He was hoping they would rejoin Noxus once he was in power, but after her display? No reason in keeping them.
A thin smile curled on his lips. All this time, all this planning, it will be worth it in just scant hours. Everyone would be dealt with in time. Riven, Annie, even Morgana, but first?
Demacia, and Jarvan came first.
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long, I had to organize a lot on this chapter alone, the flow and what I wanted to say. Thanks to KuzAnn for editing this as usual, I think you should all thank her for helping me out as well! Also, not only thank you to all my readers, but a shout out to Trolososaurus for his portrayal of Sion! Hopefully my new interpretation of Sion is a bit more spiffed up, and once more, thank you all, for reading!
Now how on earth did this slip under the radar so hard?
Bumping this back up! Deserves the attention due to the quality alone.
The characters, everything flows so utterly well! I am absolutely hooked on this and eagerly await your next post when you have the time to do so.
Also the fact you drew inspiration of Sion's portrayal from me, an insignificant author such as myself, is very kind of you. Honestly! You took the time to change your story based on one person's opinion!
That's just... wow! Thanks dude!
Very good sequel, hope the next chapter comes out soon
Also is it just me or is it that in many of your stories (including the Short Story Center and All That I Have) you make Udyr a complete and awesome bad***.
P.S. Loved Udyr versus the Wiles of Women Part One and Two in the SSC. I lolled so many times
Ah ha ha...Chapter 2 will be out soon, I promise. I've been busy with some other projects, and I'm going to be posting a part of a project that me and Kuz have been working on. Unfortunately it's going to be a Freljordian story, which is why I've been so hesitant in wanting to post it due to the amount of Freljordian lore released. So I'm going to post a new Irelia chapter, the story, and then my work on Chapter 2 begins!
And now to refer to the people who've posted.
I really liked your interpretation of Sion, and when I get further in my Blade Reforged edits, I'm going to be giving Sion his proper credence in that as well. I have some other fixes I do want to bring up, but before they are cemented, I am going to post them and ask if people like my changes I've done. I suppose I jumped the gun with Sion in this chapter, but I'm glad you enjoy it! And really, don't sell yourself short. Your stories are very good!
I based Udyr off of Akuma, Raoh, Souther and Mas Oyama (Choi Bae Dal). He's bound to be a bad*ss =p. I mean, how can the only guy who doesn't have an ulti in the League not be that awesome?
Soon! It will be soon, I promise!
My thoughts on Udyr's lore remake are here: http://na.leagueoflegends.com/board/...3333328&page=4
Luckily, the beast man wasn't going to be featured strongly in this story so yay there! =p
But in terms of all my other stories? Udyr will not be affected. I'm sorry to anyone who may expect me to follow that, but if you read the posts I made in regards to why I don't like this new Lore, via the link I provided, then you'll know exactly why I will not follow these changes. Way too many inconsistencies, way too hamfisted for even Udyr to appreciate, and it brings up so many glaring problems.
I'm also going to be ignoring how Ashe is being portrayed, from the cool, calm, collected leader descendent of a very long line of archers she was into nearly a ditz who followed a string of coincidences that led her to the plot device of a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ of True Ice.
Tryndamere, I'm not going to retcon the Barbarian Pacification Campaign that was led by Noxus.
Gragas, I'm keeping him as the fat jolly guy who got his powers from his knowledge of mana infused brewing and being a general b.a instead of finding True Ice. He already had ties to the Freljords via the Avarosa Ice Flow and his brewing operation there.
Nunu was handled poorly and I'm refusing to make Willump the Frost version of Alistar and the Minotar people, Lissandra is already similar enough to LeBlanc and Noxus let's not make it more so.
Anivia...I'm on the fence about. I don't like the chronic amnesia, but otherwise nothing really startling.
Volibear, the bolt of lightning is just a wtf thing. But him being on Sej's side, with his old personality to act more like a mentor to her rather than be a senseless warmonger makes more sense to me. Teaching her the difference between survival and scorched earth policy. Killing people and gaining nothing from it means it is nothing but sheer stupidity in its finest. Other people's way of living off the land does not necessitate destruction necessarily, and if that's your reason for crushing them, then you're pretty dumb. If you need to kill for the sake of survival, different story, but if you have the options? Look at them, don't be so tunnel visioned. That is what I'd do with him, if (and when) I should write a Freljordian story.
Trundle, funny enough, I had some plot lines for him to down. I want to write about him, it was a pet project of mine. Him finding the original necromancer, the possible ties of his everlasting pain and Mordekaiser and a deal the two could come up with, and I still feel like the new Trundle is not, well, Trundle.
Ah, pft, did I miss anyone? I don't think I did. If you want the rest of my reasons as to why I choose these paths and explain in full detail, let me know! The downside? They may all be as long as the Udyr explanation =p
Permafrost Diplomacy is going to be quite the mishmash of lores.
I think it's more going to be my headcannon of new turmoil filled Freljord than Riot's. Like, it will have Trundle the Troll King and I think Volibear and Sejuani can be together to talk to Karma but Tryndamere is still the leader of the barbarians and Ashe is still the diplomatic, ice-cold queen.
I wasn't planning to have Nunu show up, really.
© 2013 Riot Games, Inc. All rights reserved. Riot Games, League of Legends and PvP.net are trademarks, services marks, or registered trademarks of Riot Games, Inc.