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[Semi-Open RP] Crimson Reckoning

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Aproxima

Senior Member

09-10-2014

They were sitting at the stairs to the Noxian Capitol for a while now, Occama and Tabula next to her resting against his shoulder. For a long while nothing was happening so he pulled out the map to study it some more. Tabula asked in quite sleepy fashion " Oki, you sure we're at the right place? " Occama sighed and half-heartedly answered " Yes, we are at the right place. It says it right on that tablet - Capitol of Noxus. Although I admit I might have miscalculated our time of arrival. I hope we're not late. " The girl groaned " Just keep resting, I'll wake you up if anything happens. "

After a while Occama put aside the map and looked around to see...a woman inside a war chariot and another woman clak in a very colorful cloak, the other didn't stand out too much save for some fancy armor. He poked at Tabula who didn't react at first " Tabi, I think we've got it right. People are gathering here. Tabi? Oh come on, wake up! " He started the girl until she woke up and afterwards sighed " Come on stop sleeping, I think something's going to happen soon. We should get ready. Aaahhh five more minutes.... " Occama rolled his eyes and stood up and placed on her feet Tabula as well. He mumbled " Of all the people... "
Now they were more or less ready for thing to happen.


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RayOfLight17

Senior Member

09-10-2014

At last, the square opened before Jacob, and he stopped to observe his surroundings. He was certainly not the first to arrive, nor did he expect to be. Some of what were likely to be his new companions seemed to have no appreciation for subtlety, as shown by the spectral horses that even now were drawing stares. The woman who stood alone on the chariot clearly had more power than met the eye.

Then she traced a sign through the air, and Jacob felt a small chill pass through him as he recognized the symbol. He slid his left hand to his waist, checking to see that the thin flask of holy water that Joval had 'persuaded' him to bring was still there. The Dreamseeker had been nearly unintelligible, sleepwalking as he often did, but had violently thrust the vial at him until he took it. Jacob now hoped that there would be no need to attempt to use it.

There were those in the crowds who were much less visible, as Jacob spotted someone wearing an exceptionally heavy cloak for the season. While there could be other motives in this case, it was likely that the figure was another hunter who had no wish to be seen. They gave off an air of menace from beneath the fabric, but Jacob had little concern for it as he continued to evaluate the scene.

There was only one other so far that still was out of place, his golden armor reflecting the afternoon sun. Oddly, Jacob could not tell what style the armor followed, seemingly at the edge of his memory. Whatever the style was, it was exquisite craftsmanship, even from the distance he stood. He would need to ask the figure as to his unique armor if they were indeed working together.

With his observation quickly ended, Jacob began making his way to the steps of the Capitol. He aimed to be conspicuously inconspicuous, as the light brown cloak did little to cover his unique armor from the front. He needed to be seen by the others, so as to possibly begin the process of earning a limited amount of trust. If not intercepted, he would take a seat on the steps of the building, unwittingly a short distance from Occama and Tabula.


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Delmegar

Senior Member

09-10-2014

Amaron Manor


Hours before the deadline.

"I'm not angry with you." The cold rasp of the Titan of Fear called Ordimar Amaron, growled. "But you took what is mine by rights. And only by killing you can I take it back."

Ordimar was holding a bloody dagger with serrated teeth on the edge of the blade, he was pricking a bound man sitting in a chair, in the chest with it. The bound man was tied and gagged, crying out in more terror than actual pain. He watched Ordimar with wide, terrified eyes, squirming and crying like a little girl. After moments of this, Ordimar became both bored and furious at the coward of a man who claimed his birthright.

Leaning forward, Ordimar removed the gag from the nobleman's mouth, and watched with sick, twisted pleasure as the man screamed for help. "HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! SOMEONE--" The spiked gauntlet of Ordimar's hand shot forward like a steel hammer, cracking the mans skull open with one strike, and knocking him over. The noble fell to his side, still tied, blood leaking all over an expensive carpet.

Just then, Ordimar grinned beneath his ancient helm, as soldiers of Noxus could be heard outside shouting for the owner to open the door. Ordimar made no move to either let them in, or to retreat. He just waited until someone shouted for a ram, and broke down the door. In rushing half a dozen Noxian guards, they stopped, mildly horrified, and half confused, at the sight of Ordimar standing over the thieving noble.

"You there, you are under arrest! Throw down your--" The guard started, and stopped as Ordimar interjected. "Is this not the Noxus I grew up in? Does strength not prevail over the weak?"

The lead guard looked momentarily startled, looking at his subordinates for assistance. They only shrugged, if that, as some were too afraid to look away from Ordimar to acknowledge the captain. Turning back to Ordimar, he reluctantly nodded. "I-It is... But you cannot just break in and expect us to not arrest you? This is trespassing!"

"HA!" Ordimar barked. He knelt down to the man, dagger in his hand, and gripped him by his hair. In a quick motion he slit the mans throat, and laughed more. "Damn right it's trespassing. You're in my house. Now get the **** out before you end up like him!"

Later on.

Ordimar, having reclaimed his home, and once again seeing a copy of the wanted poster in the nobleman's possession, decided to remind people of House Amaron. And that was by taking contract to apprehend this 'Whistler', and earning substantial revenue for himself. With that coin he would rebuild his fathers House, stake a claim in the military by proving his might once again, and eventually, well, who knows... A million gold went a long way.

An hour of walking in deep thought, crossing narrow circuits of alleyways and streets, he found himself already at the designated location, apparently late for the party. Others had arrived, several, in fact.

He didn't pay any of them much mind, he just lumbered forward, his great sword sheathed beneath his blood red cape, and shouldered through them until he was in front of the group. Once there, Ordimar just folded his arms over his massive chest and leaned against the building, waiting.


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SwiftWinged

Senior Member

09-10-2014

Noxian Capitol: Central Noxus


The impressive city of Noxus was ever intimidating, guards lining the twenty-foot walls, enchanted blue flame crackling in the brass braziers. However, the citizens of the city seemed conserved; most doors were bolted shut, ordinary commuters rushing to markets and buying out stock. It was truly a time of crisis, citizens and visitors flocking through the gates thoroughly checked before being allowed access inside the towering steel gates. Wanted posters were plastered over every available surface, a sketch of the Blood Arrow peering menacingly into side-streets and restaurants.

In front of the Noxian capitol, a small group of mercenaries and hunters stood, no more than thirty willing to chase after the mad assassin. The diversity of the crowd was perhaps the most the mighty city-state had ever seen, ranging from Ionians and Elvish folk and the fiercest warriors of the Freljord.

The great building resembled that of a skull, its eyes lit by flickering flame, surveying the small crowd amassed below. Under the Jaws of the skull, the legendary Demacian Honor-Guard stood to the left, clad in gold and blue — a rare sight in Noxus. Ionian Magi flanked the right, their red and white robes flowing in the slight breeze, while the Noxian Elite stood in an organized row in the middle. A fox with a flaming tail paced around the Magi, pausing occasionally and sniffing the air. The Justicar who appeared to be in charge watched his crowd of mercenaries with distaste — what a ragtag band of greedy swordsmen - though soon enough that would be taken care of.

The great clock in the middle of the square struck seven, the melodic sound of the bells reverberating across the city. After the bells' last hum died away, the Head Justicar cleared his throat and began speaking in a magically amplified voice.

"Swordsmen, assassins, marksmen - ladies and gentlemen of Valoran," he began, his deep voice booming across the square and turning the heads of the crowd. "We have entered one of the darkest ages that has ever plagued our great nations. One single man has managed to bring down sixty-three of our honorable denizens, brutally slaughtering them with the use of piercing arrows. He is known to us as the Blood Arrow."

Pausing here for dramatic effect, a ripple of murmuring goes through the crowd. A brutish Viking called out foolishly, his two swords raised: "Git on with it! We aren't 'ere fer yer small talk!" Ignoring his remarks, the old Justicar continued.

"You are all here for one purpose today — to capture and end this threat to the peaceful states of Valoran, be it for the gold (here, he looked at the Viking), or for the glory. Just know that you are not rivals today, and we shall not let our petty squabbles in the past interfere with our goal to eradicate this common enemy." The Justicar turned his head to the Ionian Magi on the right, who nodded back in return.

"Before we begin, however, we must finish one final task. Each and every one of you must take an aptitude test before we begin the search for this madman. The test will begin as—"

The Justicar was cut off by a high-pitched whistle. A streak of crimson came from the skies, the red-feathered arrow lodging itself into the old man's neck. A loud gurgle was heard as the proud Noxian collapsed, a pool of dark-red blood oozing from the wound. The crowd gasped, looking upward. Perched atop the skull was a dark, hooded figure, his long cloak waving in the wind. A powerful crossbow was slung on his back, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Each arrow was individually handmade, fletched with golden-red phoenix feathers. A ruby dagger rested on the the archer's belt, glinting in the evening sunlight — Ayla Crewe would recognize this dagger to have been an artifact discovered by her late fiance.

The Blood Arrow nocks five arrows, leaping from the top of the skull and launching a volley upon the stunned Honor Guard and Magi. Several of the unarmoured Ionians fell to the arrows almost instantly, their lifeblood spilling onto the cobblestone below, half-formed spells still glimmering feebly in their palms. The honorable Demacians sprung until combat, swords raised, screaming their infamous battle cry. One by one the Whistle picked them off, shooting a swift arrow through the first, felling the second with a kick and plunging an arrow into his chest. The third member of the guard, a well-built female Demacian, lunched forward with her large broadsword. The Arrow forces her backwards with a burst of wind emanating from his hands, proceeding to lift her up using the same sorcery. A resounding crack is heard as the female's neck is snapped, her body falling to the ground as limp as a ragdoll.

The hooded archer kicks her body aside, nocking another arrow as he did so. The Firefox see earlier gives a mighty bound, teeth bared, lunging for the hostile. As it does so, it transforms into a human (http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/3750), gripping three shoto daggers between fingers in each hand. Siris swipes at the Whistle, drawing blood from his unexpected ambush. He tackles the Archer to the ground, landing a few blows. "Stop this madness, archer! You know as well as I do that I don't want to do this!" Avian plunged the daggers downwards, narrowly missing the Whistle. The archer turned around, forcing the Fire Elementalist backwards, his body slamming into the wall. Surprised at this sudden counterattack; Siris did not appear to have expected any resistance; the bladesman slid to the ground, unconscious, as the Blood Arrow put an arrow in the man's chest. Siris Avian lay on the ground, his blood splattered against the walls of the Capitol, dead. A feeble ending for the honorable man.

The skilled assassin diverted his attention to the crowd of mercenaries that lay before him. About half the group had cowed, fleeing down the streets of Noxus, disgracing their city-state. Among those who remained were a well built Elven archer and a dwarvish blacksmith gripping two deadly hammers, both with expressions of pure hatred worn upon their faces.

"Who's next?" Were the only words the archer spoke, five arrows already nocked on his bow.


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Silverling

Senior Member

09-10-2014

Noxus

Alya paid little attention to Aryn aside from her initial double take of him as he stood next to her. She remained silent as the Justicar began the meeting, listening intently to what he was saying.... Then the first arrow struck its target.

She was gone from her position the minute Whistle had made his presence known. She was pushing through the crowd and moving into a better position to where she would be able to clearly see the assassin as he continued his slaughter. Not a second after he asked for his next opponent, he would find one of Alya's chakri buried into the shafts of the center three arrows he had nocked. If he were to look in her direction, he would see the explorer standing with her hextech grappling hook aimed directly at him and with a fire in her eyes. It was blatantly obvious that she had a bone to pick with him, and she was not going to waste any opportunity to do so. She called out to the assassin, absolute rage lacing her tone.

"This hook can bury itself six inches into solid rock, its up to your imagination as to what it can do to flesh and bone."

She flipped a switch activating a laser sight that was pointed directly at his face, and the hextech tool hummed with energy.

"Shall we do a test to see what flies faster?"


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Delmegar

Senior Member

09-10-2014

Noxian Capitol: Central Noxus


Ordimar listened to the Noxian Justicar with intense boredom, his eyes only barely visible behind his visor, his sword hand itching for combat. The gathered collection of Ionians, Demacians, and Noxians, was impressive, but overall, just for show. A political stunt, he thought. He wasn't interested in them, or anything that the Justicar had to say.

It wasn't until he heard the man cut off, a familiar noise bubbling up in his throat, as if it were cut, that Ordimar looked up with grim fascination. He silently thanked the gods for silencing the fool, then watched as a cloaked man above the skull began to unleash hell on the coalition gathered to apprehend him. Normally, Ordimar thought to himself, starting to walk into the plaza, and drawing his great runesword. I loathe the crossbow. But he uses it so well!

Admiring the bloody display put on by 'Whistler', Ordimar waits his turn, as he does not seem to be of any interest to the marksman. One by one, and sometimes in clusters, the foes of this assassin or dispatched both swiftly and creatively, and Ordimar does nothing to stop this. It isn't until only a handful are left that Ordimar steps forward, shoving the dwarven mercenary out of the way and shouldering the Elven archer in the back as he moved in front of her.

One with fancy armor, a woman with some sort of gun, had made her way elsewhere rather hastily. She reappeared quickly, a hate in her eyes that Ordimar was all too familiar with himself. He had given that look. More had given it to him. But he ignored this and turned back to the enemy; he held out his greatsword singlehandedly, the point at his face. "You're welcome to try that on me. Better make full damn well it works though, otherwise this sword is going through your head."


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CALEB THEBADDEST

Senior Member

09-11-2014

(( will be referring to Ares a bellarmina from now on, its Ares's last name and I want to use it so there! ))

Bellarmina listens in slight boredom at the Justicars speech as she is only a citizen of Noxus due to a technicality, When the first arrow flies from the crossbow of Whistler she smiles showing a mouth full of piranha like teeth her hair blowing behind her like a wave of shadow in the wind. The eyes of her bracelet gleam brightly for a second as the victims blood spills, "Oh my how unfortunate" she says as she turns and steps down from her chariot. Her hips sway from side to side as she struts forward her gown flowing around her feet, she does not say anything to anyone besides giving them a kind smile.


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freAK47

Senior Member

09-11-2014

A golden blur would rocket past the Terror Knight's helm, aimed for Whisper's crossbow. He had used the larger man's girth to hide himself as he had readied his axe and thrown it. Whetheror not the axe struck the assassin mattered little: he could recall it to his hand with but a word. from its enchant meant. He ran forward, a helm materializing on his face of golden armor. "Speak to him if you wish." Were his only words to the group as he ran at the assassin.

He hated this man. Hated him more then anything. But his training in Ionia held his rage on a tight leash. 'You can't always control the battlefield. You can't always control your opponent. But you can always control yourself.' Those words dominated his time in Ionia as he bettered his skills. So it was with cool clarity then he charge the Assassin, spear in hand.

He had examined what he could learn of Whisper's tactics, specifically his weapons. He prefered piercing arrows, most likely the same kind he used on the soldiers. His armor was strong, but he doubted it could withstand a direct, perpendicular hit by one of those arrows. Especially from that crossbow. But if the shot came at an angle of 45 degrees, his armor should be able to withstand the arrow, even if it was enchanted. Any lesser degree and it should ricochet. He would have to keep moving.

The moment Whisper would take aim at him, he would begin sidestepeing, bobbing and weaving.


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Aproxima

Senior Member

09-11-2014

As Ordimar and the rest joined the crowd Occama and half-asleep Tabula moved away from them as they didn't really feel comfortable near some of those people for one reason or another. Afterwards came the Noxian official and started speaking. They've been patiently listening to him as they haven't really been on a thing like this before. However things changed quickly after the arrival of the sharpshooter.

While Occama never received any kind of formal combat training, he was bright enough to know that it's for the best to avoid getting the pointy end of the arrow inside his own body. So he grabbed the lethargic Tabula by her hand and yanked her towards him and dove to the wall of the building. Her body turned into a soft white and blue glow and quickly shifted in shape leaving her clothes to fall onto the ground. As the ending result Occama was crouching at the wall of the capitol with a giant ornate shield preventing danger from reaching him.

It seems the other survivors have already started handling the assassin, so he was in no way in a rush to do anything. After all it was an ambush, therefore they weren't prepared for this even though in the hindsight it is quite logical. For now Occama would stay at the wall hidden behind the shield and thinking of what to do next.


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AskTheMonolith

Senior Member

09-11-2014

Noxian Capital

Before the hooded figure could respond back to Ares' boast, it turned to face the man who was speaking of their task of hunting down the one called the Blood Arrow. The being really did not care much for anything spoken and only wanted for the feeble human to tell him a hint as to where this person was already. The need to rush the man was unnecessary as his 'hint' would come very soon in the form of an arrow piercing the man's throat. Turning around, the figure saw its target standing at a distance. However, it did not move just yet as if watching what the Blood Arrow would do along with the others.

Though, it did move to come in front of Ares before turning around to face her with a stony hand reaching out of the cloak. It moved in the air, writing out sign after sign in spiritual energies which were similar to Ares, Demon Kings of other realms. Then he made crosses through each, dissipating them, and when he had done so to all of them, he draws out Ares' sign before doing the same but much slower. When it disappears, the figure retreated its hand before turning to face his main objective. Only those that could see spiritual energies could see what the figure had drawn or if they could read his writing as he done so.