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[RP Event] 1.0 - A Champion is Born ~ An Ionian Celebration

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Munchlord turned to Lu Caos and accepted the greeting and formal introduction, meeting it by inclining his head respectfully and extending a hand. Should Lu take it, he would find the summoner to have a firm grip strongly contrasting his frail looking frame and slender hand.

"Munchlord D'Cardin of Zaun. A pleasure to meet you in person, finally. I know who you are indeed, as does, I would think, all summoners across Valoran, after your recent duel. While I understand that finding General Bonez here would surprise you, I must admit that I fail to percieve the amusing element of my presence. While most of the people who employ my talents in the League are Zaunites, Noxians and Independants, I am a neutral summoner after all. The only sides I take are in favor of knowledge and the continued existance of Runeterra. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Munchlord's tone is polite and friendly, if only with relatively slight hints of emotion. He seems genuinely curious as to why his presence is amusing.

((Also, Lu, Munchlord knew about the Dragon transmutation thingy. He is particularly interested in magic relating to dragons and he possesses an ancient magical artifact (secretly hidden in his Manor) that is designed to track all such magic. Just and FYI.))

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"Balance in all things, indeed. It's almost my credo in a way." Kasmiria murmured softly before sipping a drink and her face creased in surprise. Despite the drink's frigid temperature, the flavor came to her sweet and spicy. An odd combination, but works well in the same way.

She noticed Kalis in the distance, and narrowed her eyes in disdain. His presence was going to cause some attention she wasn't a fan of. Deciding to change her observation quickly, she studied Irelia. The information about her telekinesis with her sword art fascinated her in a kindred way.

"I wondered how we'll fare in the fields. It would be an interest for her and all of us to show a demonstration of her art. Maybe even with Yi."

She didn't check the volume of her comment, and when she stopped walking she was closest enough for LB and Reira to hear her.

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``For entropy!`` spoke a voice, not even bothering to raise its glass but greedily drinking all its contents before discarding it on a table corner. With a slight limp, the man then approached the human pyre and waited for the person currently talking to the monk to finish.

[QUOTE=Istarune]"Your dedication and sacrifice has inspired many, While not many of my country can appreciate that, I honor your dedication and purpose."
He bowed once more before respectfully walking off, nodding at the young Juna as he passed.

As Istarune passed by, absorbed by Juna, VII made his way to the burning monk and stared, his eyes reflecting something that resembled empathy.

``Martyr...`` his voice was cold. His right arm was shaking, drops of blood slowly leaving a trace around his clenched fist and then dripping to the ground. ``That`s what you are, a martyr. You`re going to die and by the looks and smell of it, you will die very soon. But even after you die, you are going to live forever. You will be a symbol of perseverance, of sacrifice, of endurance and courage. You`re going to stand for all those qualities while the rest of us normal people crawl like maggots through the rest of our lives, finding pleasure in a good woman, a warm meal, a strong drink and, one night, a dagger through our hearts.``

``You don`t really mean that.`` a female voice spoke from behind him. Without turning to face her, VII`s back tensed.

``How do you even know what I mean and what I don`t? You don`t know me, Ionian.`` he spoke, his voice trying to sound even colder than usual, hiding the small cracks of panic resonating within it. If she had been Noxian, he would already be dead. With his left hand, he slowly reached for his dagger.

``Of course, how rude of me. We haven`t been properly introduced I`m-``

``You don`t know me, Ionian and I assure you, you do not want to know me! As I have no interest in who you are.`` VII quickly spoke tapping the dagger`s hilt once, as if to just make sure it was there.

``As you wish... I do not wish to entrude. But the true reason I am here is that I can feel your wounds. They are deep and they are getting infected. You have no self-regeneration, no innate healing. You might even die. Please, at least let me heal you.``

``Would you still want to heal me, if you knew who did this to me, champion?`` VII turned his eyes red and burning with rage, almost glowing with magical charge ``I assure you, Starchild, you have nothing to do with me.``

``Your pain is radiating, affecting those around you. I can calm it. No matter who you are or what you have done, this is a place of peace and I bear no grudge against you, Summoner. The fact that you are not of Runeterran birth does not influence me.``

``But the origin of my wounds does, Starchild! Do not pretend to be polite, do pretend to want to heal me. You know exactly who did these wounds to me.``

``No, I... I have no idea what you`re talking about. I don`t know... What are you talking about?``

``Look at this!`` VII cried out, his eyes now glowing crimson. Small bursts of static began to blitz around him, the first slow stage of his shielding magic. Removing the sleeve of his leather robes that covered his right arm he revealed a deep bleeding wound formed from four very distinct slashes. ``Do you still have no idea? Can you not smell his stench on me?`` he cried, his voice now higher with rage, almost crackling along with the static around him.

``You... you fought him.``

``Yes, yes I fought him. How else would I have gotten mauled like this? I fought him less than an hour ago, the wounds won`t even close that fast.``

``Why? Why would he be here? Why would Warwick dare to return to Ionia.`` Soraka gasped and with a small wave of her hand, the four slashes, seemed to shrink and the blood coagulated. ``He`s... gotten so much stronger. I can`t heal it with one spell. I`ll need to cast another one is a moment.``

``He was here because he wanted to end what he started. And I am here because I had to stop him.``

``Thank you, Summoner. It was very reckless of you to try and to be honest, I do not understand how you survived.``

``Don`t thank me, Starchild. I told you: you want nothing to do with me. I did not go against him for you. I did it for him. Getting himself captured or killed while trying to eradicate an Ionian banquet was not in the Blood Hunter`s interests. And neither in mine. But tonight, those interests shifted.``

``You... You side with Zaun? You side with that monster?``

``I do not side with Zaun. But I am... was among the favored Summoners of the Blood Hunter. I do not know what my future has in store for me now that I have personally meddled in his affairs.`` VII sighed and looked into the distance. After a long pause, she spoke again.

``No matter your intent, the result also matters.`` Soraka finally muttered as she finished the healing of VII`s arm. ``You`re brave, probably as insane as the Zaunites and the Noxians combined. Please, we must talk. You are now in my care, and there are some people I would like you to meet.`` Soraka spoke and summoned over a maiden carrying two chalices filled with wine. ``A toast to your bravery. If not for you, this banquet would have been a battlefield. Balance in all things.`` she toasted.

``For entropy.`` VII toasted as he let his sleeve cover his right arm.

``An interesting concept.`` she added and stared into his eyes. She smiled ``Now please, follow me.``

``In a moment.`` VII spoke, ``I have some unfinished business here.`` As soon as Soraka stepped away, VII swiftly reached behind his ear and grabbed a hextech comm device. ``This is Tenshiro Nova, the Seventh Soulblighter. I have proceeded in betraying my old master, surviving his retribution and have now seemed to gain the temporary trust of the Starchild. I will continue to obey your directions, Master.`` he spoke into it and then proceeded to throw it as far as he could, causing it to land into the garden trees. Taking a moment to catch his breath he looked at his now healed arm. No scar remained. ``To Obey... To have a Master... Never again`` he growled under his breath and before he left to follow the Starchild he gazed at the monk once more ``I`ll see you in Hell, martyr. Keep my seat warm for me.``

((http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/57 ||| Did not know if I was allowed to involve NPCs such as Soraka, I hope it`s alright. Can one of the Ionians PLEASE get the Starchild to intoduce me to them? I`m stuck.))

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Tourist Fjord

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After much travelling and inquiries, Fjord finds his path towards this prestigious event. Holding down the brim of his cap, keeping his head down and his voice even more still. A darting glance is sent out, surveying, studying, assessing the attendants at this feast; unscrupulously analysing the shadows and shapes before him. He pauses, running his thumb across the bridge of his cap, before approaching the solitary figure of the Burning Monk.

Slowly, without word or mention, Fjord lowers himself to the ground, three metres away from the Monk. Kneeling before the Monk, he sits there, motionless, as if peering deep into the Matyr, his questions still unanswered.

Fjord turns towards the fanfare and grand gestures of celebration, silencing it from himself, sealing himself away, as he begins, delicately, to place his hands onto his legs, bracing for some unknown force.

"Balance in All Things..."

"...How does it feel, exposing your Mind? To all things? All thoughts?"

"...I wish to learn this... Someday."

Sparks begin to criss-cross between Fjord's eyes, flickering and dancing wildly, as the motion of silence begins to take hold of him, the electrical currents coursing through his body, engulfing him in a sea of silent energy, throbbing, humming; singing.

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Making his way through the throng of finery like a mobile, cantankerous sore, the cloaked figure continued on his way. Occasionally bits of food or silverware would make their way into the depths of his tattered garments -- Undoubtedly never to see the light of day again.

Indistinguishable mutters and mumblings can be heard from beneath the overhanging cowl almost like some form of constant buzzing. Rapid whisperings, unbroken in a stream of inaudible litanies and curses, words not meant for human ears.

Pausing at a table, the figure seemed to look at something, breaking the miasma of whispers for a moment of silence -- Unnoticed by most, surely, due to the noisy atmosphere of the party. Inexplicably the figure sits down on the spot before standing back up minutes later and continuing on his way.

"Oblivion awaits..."

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Caelestes d'Escarde stepped into the Lotus Gardens as Irelia was finishing her speech. The exotic atmosphere and the unusual congregation of many important personalities was almost intoxicating.

To compliment the location, he had chosen to wear an ornate silken robe. Of clearly Ionia-inspired design, it bore intricate floral motifs, the silver thread glimmering on the peachy silk. A flowing cloak fluttered behind him at every wisp of air, a masterpiece of traditional Ionian embroidery, the pattern almost iridescent under the dim lights of the lanterns.

A thin silver circlet held his hair in place, it's exquisitely Noxian design adding a contrasting yet stylish touch to the overall image. His hair cascaded gently on his shoulders, almost shimmering in the flickering lights.

Perhaps a little too luxurious, the combined set hid a subtle symbolism.

The man approached the familiar figures of General Kalis Drekval Bonez and Munchlord D'Cardin, a smile of courtesy on his lips.

"I was ~certain~ I would meet you here, My General. An interesting and bold move, I like it. Ah, hello Munchlord *licks his lips* your presence is, on the contrary, quite unexpected to me."

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So many important figures, this will be interesting. The general and Lu, the ones who dueled, as well as a few others whom I'll assume I'll have the opportunity to interact with in the near future.

Motas left the corner he had occupied to near the three or four Summoners that were conversing. Not close enough to be recognized, but to listen in on what they were saying.

You never know what information could come in handy, besides, we can't have any bloodshed here now can we?

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Juna looked up in surprise from her musings and her tense features relaxed into a smile as she recognized a friendly Summoner. "Nwol! I wasn't expecting to see you come out here. I almost didn't recognize you." She gave a half bow with her hands crossed in front of her. "Yes I know but..." She gave an unhappy gaze at the burning monk. "I just wish it didn't have to happen under...the circumstances."

She paused for a moment before shaking her head. "Forgive me, my people are known to be a little skittish in such large crowds. We had fully embraced the Ionian idea of isolation until the war...forced us to change. It takes some getting used too."

Her gaze once again peeked slightly sideways, watching Yi converse with Shen. His and her villages had been on friendly terms despite the different philosophies they had each held. His fame was well known to her even before she had chose to be a Summoner. Her heart weeped at knowing what he had suffered...it was reflected in the burning monk as a physical symbol.

Her smile faded slightly as she turned her attention back to Nwol. "But enough about my troubles, how have you been?"

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Adel Dijerek

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Emissaries from every city-state worth its salt had attended the celebration at the Lotus Gardens, wanting to receive firsthand reports of the events that would transpire there, and the city-state of Piltover was no exception. At first sight, it would seem that the ambassador Winston Drudmoore was the only Piltovian at the scene...but that would imply that the observer was not paying attention. Among the many musicians, waiters, and entertainers that had been hired to make the night more amenable was a man dressed in the garb of a juggler, all blue and green and black as he juggled knives, balls, and sticks for the pleasure of the guests, telling jokes and funny stories all the while. As he performed a routine he had practiced a thousand times, however, Heinrich Trower's mind studied the guests, taking every detail in.

"A fine crowd we've got here, all bigshots and personalities. Of course, the Noxians would be bloody well represented, but they certainly came out in force tonight...safety in numbers, maybe? And there's a fair amount of Summoners too, of course."

Finishing his performance to thunderous applause from the guests that had been watching the aerial dance of the objects Heinrich had juggled, he took a bow and discreetly vanished into the crowd. In spite of his noticeable outfit, it wasn't as hard as it seemed: people barely pay attention to the service, after all. Eventually, one person caught his eye: a lonely yordle, clearly at a loss for what to do. Smiling, Heinrich sprung toward him, landing in front of him with a handstand.

"Not amused by the festivities, Mr.? Or perhaps you're homesick? You look sadder than a creditor whose debtor died without paying him!"

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Saga of Ilthire

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Iylia sat at a side table, slowly sipping from her glass as Irelia gave her speech. It was fitting that one whose words held such significance and meaning should be accepted into the League. When it ended, she raised her drink. "Balance in all things..."

She drew the Tarot deck from her side and absentmindedly shuffled it as she watched people. There were so many here -- so many that did not know how the future would affect them and what laid in store for them. Ilyia was tempted to seek the future of some of the partygoers but, after a moment of though, decided not to. She had seen her own future once, and that vision had done nothing to stop the pain that had befallen her. At least since then, she had learned to use her ability to fight. She sighed and downed the rest of her drink. This would be a long night if she didn't start to enjoy herself.