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(*Early Beta Access* More NanoWriMo spew! With formatting this rough, who needs sandpaper?)
The early noon sun was not as harsh as it could have been.
In the dust swept streets, the heat rose in invisible columns where the
parched earth seemed to sizzle in different places. Being closer to the eastern
seaboard than most city-states, Noxus was prone to extreme changes in weather,
so there were periods of intense cold, but what was far worse was the stale
blanket of humidity that accompanied most summers. Often times it was
worthwhile to know someone with access to a cellar for the purposes of avoiding
the mucky heat. Talon often most often spent his summers in the Noxian command
center, where he would hone his skills in the training fields with other
champions, so either way he’d been accustomed to it.
Talon slid on his hood and continued through the
crowded midday streets. There was a healthy mix of citizens, from merchants to vagrants, occupying the surrounding area and engaged in lively
conversation. Thin dust clouds seemed to sprout out into the open at various
times, where shuffling feet and ropes animals had scuffed the ground. Talon
simply waded his way directly through the conglomeration of Noxians, as he
sought to reach the command center as quickly as possible. Katarina was expecting him to arrive for the mission debrief no later than thirty minutes from now, and it was known that she offered little sympathy when dealing with lateness.
Unrecognizable as Talon may have been with the hood covering his face, he always wondered if another
was watching him from afar. It was a trained reaction to having grown up in
relative solitude, and it kept him on edge whenever there were others nearby.
He determined that crowds such as this were unnerving, loud, and vulgar. They
lacked the grace and stealth that Talon had been trained to exhibit at all
times, wherever possible, so as to leave virtually no residual traces that he’d
been there. It was difficult for him to comprehend how others could manage such
a blatant disregard for their surroundings, but he was also aware of the fact
that not everyone grew up in situations where ones lifespan was measured in how
well one could remain undetected.
The cloaked assassin passed by a curious
arrangement of gold chains and other exotic wares suspended to a multi-wheeled
kiosk in the middle of the street. The heads of passersby bobbed around it,
with some turning to face the sparkling jewelry for but an instant before
returning to a forward facing direction. Talon had never seen such exquisite
finery displayed so openly, as though the owner of the cart held little regard
for the loss prevention of his wares. The owner of the cart could be seen
bartering with locals, his brisk hand puppetry conveying an impulsiveness with
which expert salesmen were trained to employ. He was short, fat, and was
wearing what looked to be bed sheets of lavender. The extravagance of his
outfit suggested that he was not a native Noxian. ‘Hey you guy!’ the man said
aloud. The crowd of people whose attention he occupied latched on to his every
word, as if each syllable was a tangible piece of high-value material. ‘And
look at this thing; it is one-of-a-kind amazing!’ the salesman proclaimed. The
orange tinge of his leathery skin was altogether disconcerting, and the
bejewelled spheres affixed to his billowy purple hat made it difficult to take
the man seriously.
Talon moved ahead of the crowd to get a better look. Before
him were spider-webs of gold chains, amulets, and lockets suspended by rusted
pegs attached to a wooden display panel coated in chipped green paint. He
looked for sharp things, gold weapons, perhaps, but could see only civilian
things. After moments of scanning the cart, the stout man waltzed over with a
shimmy of his feet and wide, childish grin.
‘Say, you there, finding everything alright?’ he
said, sounding quite jovial.
‘Yeah, not a problem,’ said Talon, not making
eye-contact with the traveller. It was obvious that he had in his possession
not a single reputable weapon, so there was no reason for Talon to waste his
time at this pointless kiosk run by a ridiculous old man. Despite this, the man
soon returned, carrying in his hand a brown fabric bundle tied up with a white
lace.
‘Well, listen here, distinguished Noxian,’ he
mused, calmly to avoid the attention of others. By now, the crowd which had
previously been at his attention had long since dispersed, lost and drifting
among the sea of people. It was pointless for Talon to recognize that this man
wanted to sell him something, but the issue of real importance centered on the
curiosity of what it was. ‘You will not see these in any shops, whatsoever,’ he
explained.
‘Listen, I have a meeting to get to,’ replied Talon
briskly, not wanting to engage in any more conversation with the man.
‘That’s quite alright,’ he replied. The merchant
was now standing directly in front of Talon, and he began unravelling the
bundle of what sounded to be metal bars.
Carefully, the bundle rolled downward
in the mans’ hands, and what was revealed from it definitely caught Talon’s
eye. The merchant was quick to pick-up on this renewed sense of interest, and before
he knew it, Talon was examining the finely crafted items.
‘Yes, you will find
these fantastic items nowhere else!’ he exclaimed. ‘Only from my kiosk will you
see such exquisite weapons. They are reinforced with rare, purified gold, you
know, impossible to damage, perfectly engineered killing machines.’ Sunlight
gleamed through the thickly laden awning overhanging the kiosks main display
panel, to where the golden weapons shone a brilliant yellow that reflected in
the merchants’ eyes like miniature suns. Talon said nothing, as he was
transfixed on the gold-plated weapons. They were definitely above average in
terms of what he most often found on the streets. It became clear to him that
this merchant knew of his name and reputation. Probably expected an easy sale.
‘Ok, how much for the whole set,’ Talon said. He
didn’t have time to waste. Katarina was probably sitting inside the briefing
room at the Noxian command center waiting for him. However, she had in fact
bought out all the weapons he’d wanted a day prior, so it this was only
fitting. Plus, it had been awhile since he stocked up on new weapons.
‘Well, let me just figure this out for you then,’
said the man, nearly grinning ear to ear, displaying several gaps where his
teeth had once been. With a twinkle of his eye and a twirl of his white
mustache, he met Talon’s eyes once more, holding a tiny square of paper in his
left hand. ‘For the low price of one-thousand gold per!’ the excitement in his
words seemed to rend the air. Talon was not amused. He let out a brief sigh
before retrieving his gold pouch. Before he even had time to retrieve the
amount necessary to make the purchase, something struck him from behind. The
blow sent him flying directly into the merchant, and the two of them crumpled
to the ground. The merchant was careful to direct the blades away from either
man by tossing them to the ground before the fall. This very quickly attracted
a mob of people intent on looting the precious gold daggers, and there was
nothing that could be done to prevent this. Talon rolled forward and rose to
his feet as quickly as possible. He scanned the area for signs of an
instigator, but could see no one capable of inflicting such a forceful blow on
such short notice.
The merchant, stammering in frustration, rose to his feet
and tried his best to fend off the looters. Just then, Talon took a stiff right
hook to the jaw, knocking him several feet to the left. The sharp taste of
blood stung his lips. He instinctively withdrew his blade, a flash of steel in
the sunlight, and turned to face his assailant. And there a cloaked figure
stood, crouched, staring directly at Talon. He looked poised to strike, and
instead of waiting, Talon leapt forth to try and gouge the man. With one smooth
motion the cloaked figure side-stepped and took hold of Talon’s shoulder before
he had time to react, sending him flying into the sales kiosk.
The flimsy
wooden display snapped apart, causing heaps of coiled chains, trinkets, and
rings flew skyward before sprinkling to the ground like gold rain. By now a
circle of people had formed around the combatants, and those where were close
enough do so dove right into the scattered pile of goods, taking with them as
much as their pockets would hold. Clouds of dust were kicked up all around, and
for a moment, Talon’s assailant lost sight of him. Using this temporary screen
to his advantage, Talon, whose shoulders and back were now wracked with pain,
pushed himself to his feet and began to move through the crowd. Voices were
raised and crowds grew restless. Throngs of people circled about and shifted
uneasily. Most of them had no idea what was going on. Talon, still recovering
from the attack, rapidly scanned the crowd for black-clad man. There was a
yell, followed by a scream, as two bystanders were nearly pushed to the ground
by the assailant, who had taken off down a narrow alley with Talon in pursuit. Hot
afternoon sun turned to dark and damp within the crevice, and as there were
mounds of trash and empty boxes on the ground here, neither man could run at
full capacity. Talon wanted to scream out to the man, let him know that he had
pushed the wrong guy, but he knew that this was no ordinary encounter. These
black-clad men had given him trouble before, and he was going to put a stop to
it. His breath became shallower as the chase continued, and the alley became narrower.
A moment later and Talon was stumbling over debris, falling just out of reach
of the cloaked man. With arms outstretched, Talon toppled over and crashed into
a random assortment of crates, their wooden frames buckled and snapped under
his weight. Taking note of this, the unknown man stopped dead in his tracks. Residual
fear caused him to respire rapidly, and it took him a moment before he could
speak. ‘So… the Crimson Elite, I see they have sunk to a new low,’ he wheezed,
voice so baritone that it was difficult to isolate in the confined space. Talon
groaned, and attempted to push himself up. The task had proven too laborious
for his aching body to deal with, and he simply slumped to the ground once
more. ‘Pathetic excuse for an assassin,’ the man spat. To Talon’s mind, the
words burned like wreaths of flame. He had never seen this man before, and was
unwilling to admit defeat so easily. The mans’ dark visage was hidden beneath
the shadows cast by the alley walls, a column of darkness that threatened to
consume him entirely.
The void stared back at Talon with the promise of a swift
demise, and he took it upon himself to gaze back upon it, a reckless and
curious deviation from a train of thought focused only on survival. At that
very instant the blazing midday sun crept over the red-tiled roof overhead,
causing waves of sunlight to spill over, flooding the dark alley with
brightness. It was at this moment that Talon noticed something so profound that
he at first believed it to be a mirage. The dark man stepped towards Talon with
his weapon drawn; the narrow walls of the alley were traced by brilliant
reflections from the mirror-polished steel. On the approach, the man appeared
poised to strike, and it was clear to Talon that he was not going to miss.
Without realized how or why, the fallen assassin was incapacitated. It dawned
on him that he was being restrained by unseen, magical bonds, not unlike that
which had held him in Morgana’s cellar. His system flooded with panic. Mental
pictures – fight or flight responses overwhelmed him to the point of nausea.
This man was going to kill him, he thought, and there was nothing he could do
about it.
Time seemed to downgrade from a steady progression to a snail-state,
and all around there were clouds of dust that for prolonged moments seemed to
be held suspended, frozen in time, wisp-like motion stagnated by the impossible
dead of the wind. The walls seemed to close in now; the light seemed to grow
ever brighter. Standing at the base of Talon’s helpless form, the killer
prepared a deathblow. Talon fought to wrench his arm from the unseen bonds, but
the strain was unbearable. There was a flash. A blur of motion crossed the
scene. A sharp slash was followed by a gruesome fountain of blood. There was
Katarina, dressed in full Crimson Elite attire. Before her feet was the freshly
eviscerated killer, lying in a pool of his own blood. Talon was now free of his
bonds. He pushed himself to his feet, shook himself free of dust, and looked
Katarina in the eye. She was smiling. It was apparent that this exercise had
fulfilled her in some way, as though chaotic streak resided deep with her
psyche.
‘You were late,’ she said calmly, wiping the blood
from her dagger with a white cloth that she then tossed upon the bleeding
corpse, as though it were nothing. Talon was at a loss for words. ‘Thank me
later.’
The streets were less busy now. Talon and Katarina
walked past several shops with large window displays of antiques and other
expensive fineries that only Noxian nobles and established League Champions
could afford. Talon was unnerved by the lack of conversation between the two
since the altercation in the alley. It was as if Katarina held no importance to
the event, and had considered it nothing more than a favor. At this point it
became clear to Talon that she lacked a conscience, so it was not difficult for
him to understand why she was head of the Noxian command. It was not a duty for
those who held in place moral obligations above the cold efficiency of progress
and advancement. Such was the way of Noxus, to be brutal, and avoid opposition
by being the best at what you did, regardless of the consequences. It was not unlike
Katarina to kill without remorse. It had been a staple of her existence from as
far back as she could remember. Under cover of night, she had, as a young woman
under cover of night, assassinated dozens of Demacian commandoes during the
heated border exchanges many years ago. It was her bloodthirsty determination
that carried her through the harrowing conflict, and she was not ashamed of any
of it. It was kill or be killed, and she had attained such a level of
perfection and mastery of her art that none could match. Even during times of
peace she was killing. Her appetite for death was voracious and unparalleled in
the League. Had she not been associated with a political organization dedicated
to the betterment of the Noxian city-state as a whole, one might consider her a
crazed mass murderer. Fortunately, she’d made a profession out of her primary
interest, and she loved her job. Every day presented a new opportunity to bring
about her own self-asserted justice, not that she lacked morals, she just stuck
by her own moral code. Whoever disagreed with her was simply in the wrong, and
she would correct their misbehaviour by maiming them fatally. Such was the way
of the Du Couteau name, and her reputation for demonstrating her capacity for
murder was difficult to overlook.
‘I want to thank you for what you did for me back
there,’ said Talon in a casual tone.
‘It was nothing, really,’ she replied, with equal
casualness. ‘I was frustrated at your lateness, so I took it upon myself to
investigate why. Nothing more.’ Her words were dead, empty of emotion or
recourse. Talon considered for a moment if she’d even taken into consideration
what he’d said. Or it might have been that she had automatically generated a
reply based on her current state of mind. It was not like Talon to
psychologically analyse any person to any extent, so his current thoughts on
Katarina brought upon some discomfort. And in the reflection of her pale
emerald eyes he saw nothing but a cold blank stare, gazing out towards the
greying skyline. The sun had picked up and it took with it the remnants of
whatever had been left on the ground, covered by dust like miniature tornadoes.
Chapter 3: War Room
After a bite to eat and minimal conversation Talon
and Katarina were crossing through the prestigious doorway to the Noxian High
Command. It was a decedent and ancient building that in some ways resembled an
obelisk. The black sheen of its exterior made it appear foreboding at any time
of the day, and for the average citizen this was rightly so, as the building
itself was shrouded in secrecy and was the source of many rumors. Only highly
trained officials and diplomats were allowed to enter, and the secrets within
were to be protected at all times by stealthed guards and sentry wards placed
all around the perimeter, undetectable by conventional means. Talon had seldom
entered here, as he was not yet an official member of the Crimson Elite. His
presence was welcome only because of Katarina’s authorization, so he had to
remain by her side at all times. Never before had he crossed through the
obsidian doors of the High Command without out her, for to do so would be an
act of treason.
The pair of assassins walked formally across the
polished granite floor. Pillars of ivory decked the lobby. Paintings of Noxian
heroism and intrigue lined the walls surrounding the lobby, adding a classic
touch to the place. Braziers of plated gold were held aloft by chains near the ceiling,
ventilation provided by air-ducts carved into horizontally barred skylights
sequestered within double decker roofing. Katarina’s combat boots tapped loudly
against the solid floor, and she was heading right to the front desk, staffed
by a sullen, balding man who looked to be in his 40s. ‘I have the meeting room
booked for the two of us,’ she said expectantly. The man nodded his shiny head
and rose from his pleated leather chair with a creak. Talon examined the
elaborate Kumungan jungle carvings hanging on the black slate wall behind the
desk, shapes and forms stylized for abstraction. Talon glanced ahead at the
reflective surfaces on the walls that lead to the main floor. After a quick
written exchange, the guard gave Katarina a special bracelet, a simple security
measure, and nodded his head. The briefing room was elegant and simplistic;
gray carpet, black walls, and a large viewing window overlooking Noxus, where
one could observe the day to day activities of the merchant district. Small
vases filled with simple green vines were placed in clusters on the boardroom
tables. Katarina was holding a large orange dossier filled with paperwork. She
pointed to a seat and looked at Talon. ‘I’ll do the talking,’ she said. Her
voice echoed off the high ceiling. The space was dark, drafty, and lacked the
colourful Noxian art and vibrancy of the lobby. There were seats for at least
40 people here, so there was plenty of room to sink into, observe, and
contemplate the silence. It was a comforting place to be for an assassin,
thought Talon.
Katarina stood by the window as she prepared to
deliver the mission. She turned back around and tossed the documents on the
table, crossed her arms, and began to pace. Her perplexed look indicated
intense concentration, but Talon knew that she would have been well prepared
for this in advance, so there was something else on her mind, something tugging
at her that she was not at liberty to discuss.
‘Alright,’ she said, ‘here’s the situation.’ She
asserted her words with confidence, resolve, and Talon listened intently. ‘As
you may know, there’s been suspicious activity in the graveyards. Stolen
bodies. Graverobbers. That sort of thing,’ she said. ‘We’ve been made aware of
these incidents from High General Swain, and he’s not happy with it. We’ve got to
find out what’s going on out there, because people are starting to talk. When
people talk, they gossip, and that hurts us, Talon, as you may know.’ Talon
nodded, sat back in his chair, and thought of what he’d heard in the past week
to connect to this. Nothing about graveyards or suspicious activity. ‘We’re
dealing with a necromancer, a dangerous one. Used to be a summoner in the
League, now he’s gone mad. We need to put a stop to it.’ Talon stared blankly
at her, as if she’d just slapped him. Necromancy? It was a myth as far as he
was concerned. Nobody practiced that ancient art. Too risky. Too many failsafes
preventing the success of the spells. It was one thing to suggest the use of
black magic or other sinister arcane arts, but necromancy was a whole different
kind of animal. It had been outlawed decades ago by the Institute of War, at
least outside the Fields of Justice. Practiced necromancers were to unlearn
their powers, revoke their oaths, and break all necromantic incantations under
their spellbinding. ‘These are the affected locations,’ Katarina said. She
unravelled a freshly pressed map of Noxus, and on it where several red markers.
The first thing Talon noticed was that nearly all the markers centered over
Noxian graveyards, crypts and other places where the dead resided. ‘We have
reports of undead walking, the real deal, and people are dying,’ she said. Her
words were mute, free of worry or concern. Talon had come to respect her
ability to supress her weaker emotions.
‘So, one man is responsible for this?’ said Talon.
‘So-far that’s what we’ve been told,’ Katarina
said. She scanned through the mission briefing papers for additional
information, whatever was most relevant. There were several eye-witness
accounts, vague reports of incidents of livestock being attacked, stolen,
children going missing, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, slow moving forms
that groaned and howled. These incidents took place at the outer fringes of the
city, near the forests, dividing lines between rural and urban. There were no
day-time accounts. The connection was drawn by the nature of the assailants.
The matching descriptions made it quite obvious that these were undead minions
of some sort, arising from places unseen, seeming to shamble forward from the
mists and then leave without a trace. The relative information suggested that a
rogue Summoner, recent escapee from prison, was responsible for conjuring these
beings into existence, though there was not a lot of detail here. The lack of
information was unnerving to say the least, especially for as precise a
detachment as the Crimson elite. They dealt with black and white, dead or alive
situations when given a duty, a time, and an extraction point. Their business
dealt with the art of killing for purpose, whether it be the protection of high
profile individuals or the general safeguarding of Noxian citizenry. They were
an advanced police-force given the jurisdiction to act independent of Noxian
law, so long as the mission was completed. This fact made them both feared and
revered, and it had also cut crime down to a level that rivalled Piltover.
‘So where do we come in?’ Talon said. Katarina
balanced on the balls of her feet as she flipped through the pile of official
paperwork. The candles in the room flickered steady in the draft that came from
the open slits by the window. She walked over to them and cranked a latch that
closed the openings in one swing.
‘A bit too drafty in here for comfort,’ she said. Before
she was able to sit back down, there was a knock at the door. Katarina walked
over, opened it, and looked quite surprised after doing so.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I am Tynea, and I’ve been
assigned to your mission,’ she said.
‘Who sent you?’ said Katarina. Her tone was more
defensive than usual. Tynea was
‘Swain sent me,’ said Tynea. She strode into the
room, awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with Katarina. Talon had never heard the
name Tynea, either. ‘I am new to the Crimson Elite,’ she said. She was standing
over by the window now, playing with the blinds, causing the light to play
across her toned frame. ‘This will be my first assignment.’
‘Have you any idea about the nature of the
mission?’ asked Katarina.
‘No. Swain said you’d fill me in on all the
specifics.’
Katarina did not look amused. The three assassins
spent the next hour revising all that had been said. Tynea appeared transfixed
on the conversation, as she hung on their every word. Talon’s first impression
was that it was unwise to be so impressionable. Katarina tried her best to
stick Tynea to a task that would not interfere with the main operation. It was
going to be a difficult task, as she did not want to offend Swain in any way.
Not that she distrusted him, but she did not want to deal with a novice. ‘How
long have you been with us?’ Katarina asked.
‘Months,’ she replied. ‘Swain to a liking to me, or
so it’s been said.’ She tried not to sound boastful, but indifferent. ‘He says
that I have shown great potential, and that my morals are in line with the true
Noxian vision. I seek to uphold that belief wherever I go, whatever the mission
maybe. I realize that you may not have heard of me, but I will prove myself,
and show that I am more than capable of following your orders to the best of my
abilities.’ Tynea sat upon one of the large leather chairs, and Katarina looked
her in the eyes, looking pleased.
‘Well then,’ said Katarina, ‘it looks like we’ll be
making a go of it. If you don’t mind, we’ve already covered most of the mission
specifics. Why don’t we take a walk while we fill you in?’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Tynea. Talon stood up
from his chair, and politely shook Tynea’s hand.
‘I’m Talon,’ he said.
‘Yes, I’m familiar with you,’ replied Tynea, with a
smirk. ‘There are few in Noxus who have not heard of your great deeds in the
League.’ Talon confirmed this with a nod and a smile, and then the three
assassins walked over to the large window. Talon gazed out over the Noxian
streets, taking note of the plumes of smoke emanating from various smithies and
bonfires. It was nearly supper time, and the afternoon sunlight dwindled. As
the trio deliberated the mission specifics, they came to learn more of Tynea.
Apparently she’d been active in the offshore Ionian conflict many years ago,
where Zaunite war machines had reigned supreme, and much of the Ionian
resistance had been wiped out. ‘There is not much I remember about it,’ she
said, sounding distant. ‘It was so long ago, and the injuries I sustained make
it difficult for me to draw a clear recollection. I wish to speak of it no more’
Katarina and Talon respected her request, and returned to the mission at hand.
The trio were to reconvene at midnight outside of Northwatch tower before
proceeding to the first graveyard under investigation. The tower would act as a
centralized base of operations for the entire northern front of the city, where
several graveyards were located. Katarina had suggested that Swain requisition
the help of other Noxian military units once the first graveyard had been
combed over, as it would be a considerable waste of time to only hold one
three-person team responsible for the entire operation. ‘I think that can be
arranged,’ said Tynea. The confidence of her words surprised Katarina, as it was
known that the High General was not easily swayed. She did not question it,
however. They would need all the help they could get.
‘Good,’ said Katarina. ‘Ensure that not a word is
spoken about Northwatch until supplementary forces have been provided. We
cannot run the risk of having our location revealed. Standard procedure.’ She
spent most of the time glancing at Tynea as she said this, as if to emphasise
something that a novice might overlook.
‘I am quite familiar with our standards,’ said
Tynea, respectfully. ‘Just because I am new, don’t think I will become a
liability. I can handle myself well, and I will ensure that my actions do not
compromise the integrity of this mission in any way.’ Her words were filled
with resolve, inasmuch Katarina nodded solemnly as if to convey respect. Talon
regarded the situation with little concern. He did not care that Tynea was new,
so long as she stuck to the tasks appointed to her, and did not interfere with
his own work. He was used to working alone.
Chapter 4: Northwatch Tower.
It was a quarter to twelve. All around the
city-state, clouds descended like serpents coiling round’ tree limbs. Torches
ablaze, shining like stars in the darkness. A gentle calm descended on the
sleeping city. Moonlight flickered as the clouds danced across the sky in
ribbons. Tynea walked alone to Northwatch at a brisk pace, her breath was dense
in the cold night. She did not want to be late, so she hurried to Northwatch.
It would have been a great disappointment to be late for her first mission,
especially with such well known advisors. It was strange to her how League
Champions within Noxus were still required to provide their services to the
High Command, especially when at any moment they could be called upon to
partake in the Fields of Justice, but she’d been told that it was all part of
true Noxian duty. To achieve great things in Noxus, it was necessary for one to
endure great hardships along the way, so that the glory of their deeds might be
better recognized. For one such as Talon, who’d grown up a thief, murderer, and
vagrant, it was far more difficult to purge away his past. Tynea respected
Talon’s will to succeed and overcome such adversity. To have a troubled past in
Noxus was not something easily overlooked, especially with regard to service
within the High Command.
When Tynea arrived at the tower, Talon and Katarina
were further discussion the nature of the mission. They were in a vast,
candle-lit room at the base of the tower, and were examining maps upon a large
wooden table. Talon had his arms crossed, and appeared to be in a state of
disagreement. Katarina was pointing at a specific location on the map, and
explaining something about the mission. ‘It doesn’t matter that the Institute
frowns upon the use of Necromancy. The fact is, both Zaun and Noxus haven’t
banned its practice,’ said Katarina.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Talon. ‘The fact that
it’s outlawed won’t stop rogue magic users from learning it. This Summoner
might not be from either city. We don’t even know. Why should it fall under our
jurisdiction without knowing the full story?’ said Talon.
‘Leave it. Your doubts only impede our progress.
There is no reason to distrust the High General and his intelligence reports.’
Katarina looked up for a moment, noticed Tynea, and began to walk over to her.
‘Greetings,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you aren’t late. Are you ready for our little
excursion?’
‘Why yes, I always come prepared,’ Tynea said.
There was a hint of enthusiasm in her voice that was easy to mistake as
foolishness. Katarina smiled before turning back to Talon.
‘Besides,’ said Katarina, ‘why would it matter
where he’s from. He’s creating problems for Noxian citizens, and that’s what
we’re here to take care of.’
‘Sounds like a task for the Noxian constabulary,’
said Talon. Katarina scoffed at this.
‘And what makes you think they are equipped to deal
with a threat such as this? Do you not think that, given the circumstances, it
is far better to contain the threat ourselves, rather than have this incident
exposed to the public?’
‘With all the rumors going around,’ said Talon, ‘it
seems pretty pointless.’ Katarina by this point had grown visibly angry, and
she eyed her counterpart contemptuously.
‘So, what you’re saying is, you’d rather leave this
rabble to the dogs, and run the risk of putting the entire High Command to
shame? I won’t have it,’ said Katarina. She slammed her fist on the table as
she explained her frustration. Talon shrugged, and looked the other way.
‘Well I, for one, agree with her,’ said Tynea. ‘The
constabulary is ill-equipped to deal with a threat such as this.
Plus,’ Katarina added, ‘as Tynea mentioned before,
Swain might be willing to dispatch more soldiers to aid in this investigation.
It all depends on how well we execute this first mission.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Talon. ‘Swain’s no
fool. He’d rather stick us with inane tasks such as this than deal with what’s
really important.’
‘And what would that be?’ interjected Katarina.
‘Look at the situation in Zaun. The streets are awash with foul magic and
rampant, unchecked techmaturgical waste. Is that what you want? I, for one,
will not allow the integrity of our glorious city-state to fall prey to
unchecked threats such as this. My father would never let such things happen.’
Upon mentioning the elder Du Couteau, Talon backed off. The old General had
been the only man capable of beating him in armed combat, many years ago. This
event led Talon to join the Crimson Elite, and eventually the League. Because
of this, it was impossible for Talon to disrespect Katarina’s word, and he was
bound to the act of upholding his allegiance to the Du Couteau name, regardless
of the consequences.
‘Noxian ideals aside, I do this for your father,
and I would hope that you don’t abuse that connection,’ said Talon.
Surprisingly, Katarina expressed understanding. She did not seek conflict with
the assassin.
There was a job to be done, that was all, no questions asked. As
the night drew on, they devised their plan of attack. The first graveyard to be
examined was the worst of all. In the past months, there had been almost daily
reports of suspicious goings on there, inasmuch the nearby settlements had been
so disturbed as to vacate the area. Missing livestock, ravaged land, strange
noises at night – it had all been in the report. As per the mission briefing
there had yet to be a murder, but the hope was that the Crimson Elite would
prevent that from happening. At first, Katarina had also wondered why
the High Command decided to send such a high profile team as well. She had even
asked Swain about this, but this inquiry revealed little. Swain was as distant
as always, and revealed very little. In that old General’s office, with that
strange bird upon his shoulder, things didn’t seem quite right. The man had
gazed at her, affably, but would not reveal anything beyond what was in the
paperwork, which was very scant indeed. She knew that Talon would have his
doubts, as the man disliked operating on so little information, but these
concerns would need to be put to the wayside for the time being.
‘Alright people,’ said Katarina.
‘We know what needs to be done. This is simple. We’re going to go in there and
find out what’s going on. Tynea, I’m going to need you topside while we venture
beneath ground. There’s no telling what will come in after us, and we need
someone to protect our exit.’ Tynea shifted uneasily. She did not like this,
but ultimately, she accepted the command willingly, and tried to appear
indifferent. ‘Talon and I will make our first insertion near this crypt.’ She
pointed to the large, elaborately detailed map upon the table. It was complete
with perfectly sketched terrain features, a legend for points of interest, and
topological markings to convey a sense of scale. This first graveyard of
investigation was not an overly complicated place, but the simplicity and
elegance of its mapping provided the team with an easy reference with which to
devise a proper exploration route. As she spoke, Katarina made several more
marks upon the map with a fat piece of red charcoal. The others listened with a
level of concentration that was easily observed in the flickering candlelight.
It pleased Katarina to have their undivided attention, as she knew this would
help prevent liabilities.
‘I know the underground system
quite well,’ said Talon. ‘There is a system of crypts connected by caves and
other secret passages. Judging by the reports, it seems that whoever’s
responsible for this has been using them frequently. There are clusters of
crypts where groups of family members are buried, so there’s a good chance that
he’s being taking advantage of this. We’ll need to be careful, though. Many of
the sections are old and will likely collapse if we aren’t careful.’
‘Alright, we know the plan,’ said
Katarina. ‘Tynea, here will be your patrol path. Make sure not to stray too far
from it, as there are wild animals and other such things that you’ll want to
avoid.’ Tynea, still feeling kind of left out, nodded plainly. She wanted to be
where the action was, but her duty was more important than this concern.
Without further ado, the group
snuffed out the candles in the room. All the maps and intelligence papers were
stashed away and locked within a large trunk near a rotting bookshelf. It
seemed evident that no one had occupied this watchtower for some time, but the
secure dealings were a necessary precaution. Katarina took a moment to change
into more suitable attire, as did Tynea. Talon was already in his mission
uniform, a combination of light armor and cloth that had been manufactured for
the purposes of stealthed movement. Katarina had selected a skin-hugging cat
suit of stretchy black fabric, complete with a thick outer layer of ballistic
resistant meshing. Her hair was impossible to fully contain, so instead she let
the waist-length mass flow freely. It was part of her being, and it had never
given her much trouble in the past, but there had always been the odd time
where closed doors and hidden hooks proved to be a painful nuisance. The
blooming red bushel was not even close to regulation, but as she was a Noxian Commander,
there was in her case a special exception to this rule. Tynea was wearing
standard Crimson Elite attire nearly identical to Talon’s, with a black
under-suit of leather, a heavy fabric red cloak, and steel inlaid gold and
black helmet. Katarina had mapped out a patrol path for her that she was less
than enthusiastic about, but she wasn’t going to complain.
Katarina checked her daggers and
throwing weapons, ensuring they were properly fitted to the various sheaths and
holsters on her uniform. All three assassins were armed to the teeth, and were
prepared to confront any threat that the night might present them with. With a
loud thud, Talon closed the large wooden door to the tower behind him as the
trio left the tower. With the night being colder than expected, Katarina downed
a vial of clear fluid designed to fill the body with warmth for extended
periods of time. It had been prepared for her by one of the mages stationed at
the High Command, and it took effect immediately. She felt her limbs tingle
with warmth, and it was a pleasant feeling. Neither Talon nor Tynea had need
for the mixture, as their uniforms were of a special fabric that locked the
heat in. Katarina had forgone the typical Noxian garb for a more lightweight
alternative, as she preferred to have a full range of motion when engaging in
armed combat.
‘Here is where we split up,’ she said. Tynea, with an expression
of boredom on her face, nodded. Katarina withdrew several vials of the warming
potion, and extended them to her.
‘Here, Tynea, take these for when the cold starts
to nip. If you should run out, there are more inside my bag in the tower.’ With
a cheerful smile, Tynea accepted the vials and stashed them in a small brown
leather pouch attached to her belt. With as snug and form fitting an outfit as
it was, she had to ensure that the sharp objects were placed in such a way as
to prevent self-injury. Talon needed only one weapon. It was a cruel, twisted
short sword that had been specially modified to clip onto a wrist mount, as
though the blade were an extension of his right arm. As it covered his forearm,
it offered protection as well as brutal killing power. It was a unique weapon,
one that had been custom fitted to his needs. Katarina preferred her special
issue dual daggers, inscribed with the symbols of the Noxian military. They
were only available to those of the High Command, and were exceedingly
expensive to make. Very few sets had been issued, and Katarina was most
incredulous about letting others use them.
By pre-dawn, the trio had reached the cold
Noxian graveyard. Upon the old earth they now tread, wisps of cloud touched the
ground and formed a thinly layered blanket of translucent fog. Piles of moss
and other vegetation, where black ravens and lesser known creatures roamed
unseen, crept and curled about the tombs like snakes circling jungle foliage.
Strange noises could be heard near the grey cobblestone paths which lead to an
unknowable number of underground crypts.
The more elaborate funeral arrangements were decked out with ornate stone
gargoyles and other carved beasts. They belonged to Noxian noblemen and
distinguished military figures alike, and there were no visible pathways to
them. To protect against defacement, some tombs and crypts were concealed under
the stealthy guise of Summoner’s magic. That is, unless the one performing the
defacement was a Summoner to begin with. Noxian graveyards were not unlike
those of Demacia, Ionia, or any other in Valoran. They had ceremonial
tombstones, inscribed with phrases of virtue, respect, and discipline. Noxians
were a proud a people as any other, and thus all dead citizens were given due
respect in this way. Given the reports of this Summoner, it was clear that he
was bereft of all respect.
Talon and Katarina strode side-by-side, saying very little and moving
very quietly. Dimly lit by mounted torchlights and the occasional gas-lamp, the
pair happened upon a dirt road that lead forked into areas unknown, where it
was decided, at the flip of a Noxian nickel that they would continue down the right
path.
Katarina would have preferred to
go left, though in the end it didn’t really matter. She was dressed in a
leather assassins’ ensemble, suited primarily for covert operations. For the
ease of movement and sake of circulation, the skin of her arms and shins were
exposed, and the rest of the fabric that did cover her body was form-fitting
and spare. Many small pockets lined with tiny metal zippers could be observed
on her person, and she ensured they were filled with tiny weapons, poisons,
powders, and whatever else might be necessary for dispatching enemies. Her
slick black combat boots were durable and double-laced, with folded notches at
the top for extra storage. The only remaining oddity was her bright
waist-length hair, so voluminous as to put a peacock to shame. It was most
definitely the most recognizable feature about her, and she’d taken such pride
in it as to disregard the burden of carrying upon her head such a luxurious
mane. It almost always smelled of the finest vanilla soaps, and other such
nonsense that emanated feminine allure not unlike the noticeable curves of her
body; often providing a suitable distraction for those who she’d intended to
slay.
Talon dawned the standard Crimson Elite uniform-- a golden helm with a
glinting blue visor, black, grey, and red steel-woven armor, shoulder pads with
gold spikes, and his trademark cloak, which was comprised of toughened fabric
tails connected to sharpened blades of steel that glinted cruelly whenever
occasioned by a nearby source of light. Affixed to his right arm was a blade
several feet in length, his most trusted weapon. Due to training and
experience, neither Assassin felt uncomfortable here, though for most it was
quite an unsettling environment. For Talon and Katarina, there was safety in
the shadows-concealment-they could move unnoticed, undetected, and strike out
at an enemy with an assured element of surprise…
Talon was explaining to Katarina how, five years ago, he’d been to this
graveyard before, during a time where it had been quarantined due to grave
robbers. He claimed to have had nothing to do with the incident, though given
his history as a thief, this seemed altogether unlikely.
‘Just stay quiet and keep up,’
Katarina replied with a hint of agitation.
She did not have the patience for failure; distracted, incompetent allies were
simply an unnecessary burden. Quite frequently, Talon had proven himself on the
Fields of Justice, but this was more than just a routine skirmish against
unskilled Demacian Champions. This mission had been passed down by Jericho
Swain himself, and perhaps it was this fact alone that clocked her mind into a
paranoid state. She was a High Commander, responsible for upholding the Du
Couteau name, in light of her father’s disappearance, and a failure to complete
this mission would be met with harsh discourse. Cassiopeia, Katarina’s sister,
would most certainly not be impressed if such a failure were to occur.
‘Just keep your mind on the mission,’
she said, not concerned in the least
for Talon’s irrelevant musings.
‘Whatever
you say,
’ Talon replied
indifferently. He scanned the terrain and attempted to move through it without
making a sound. Talon, a man of intense mental and physical strength, was the
newest and least experienced member to the Crimson Elite, and he was fighting
to prove his allegiance to the Du Couteau name at all times. General Du Couteau
had been the only man to best Talon in an act of combat, and it was due to this
fact that he overlooked his reluctance at working with the General’s
daughter.
‘This is serious,’ she said, speaking in low
tones
. ‘Swain gave me the full
briefing. He says that there’s a rogue Summoner on the loose, and he’s taken to
this graveyard to perform forbidden magic.’ She tried to emphasise her words by
raising her eyebrows and motioning her hands expressively.
Talon merely nodded in acknowledgement, but his mind was elsewhere.
Breathing calmly and crouching
low, he kept a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger at all times. Without a
reply to give, he began to consider the mission at hand.
Why would a banished Summoner be so obsessed
as to call upon the empty spirits of the dead? he wondered. The details of the
mission, the briefing, the synopsis, delivery, location info- it had all been
so hastily given, as if without much consideration. Or perhaps more
consideration than could be appropriately concealed, as in not knowing if this
was a trap from the start or not, and Talon had been in these situations
before. Whereas Katarina had sipped from silver spoons and dined with Noxian
nobility in her teenage years, Talon had scraped together a meager existence in
the sewers, and had altogether developed a sense of keenness absent from one
who’d been given the comfortable life, or so he thought. Truthfully, Katarina’s
life had been as far from comfort as her Father could make possible. He’d been
quite a strict disciplinarian, and always pitted her against her sister in some
kind of contrived competition to see who could accrue the most prestige and
honor in light of the family name, creating many bitter feuds between the three
of them that had caused hatreds to run deep (it took years for o undo the
damaged relationship between her and Cassiopeia.) Not only that, but Katarina
was renowned for instigating fights in the many boarding schools that she’d
attended throughout her younger years, resulting in numerous expulsions and
relocations that had caused General Du Couteau so much stress throughout the
years. This was well before his disappearance, however, and things had changed
dramatically since then…
And every now and then, a
shrill cry would pierce the near-silence, courtesy of the restless ravens
that’d yet to seek refuge. At present, the highly trained Assassins of the
Noxian Crimson Elite, Talon and Katarina, kept a low profile as they weaved
their way through the darkened terrain in search of the rogue Summoner. And
there was no sign of him yet.
The pair of assassins had
ventured through the graveyard entrance, and were now nearing the ritual
grounds. The upkeep here had clearly been avoided, as there were piles of
overgrowth, next to no maintenance in sight, and there was not a not a
single lit lantern in sight. Some of the tombs dated back hundreds of years,
and others mere months.
Being surrounded by all
this death gave Katarina some time to contemplate the death she'd dealt. The
thoughts sensed of remorse, sorrow, and regret, but she had not the tolerance
to consider them for long. Expert mental discipline made it possible
for her to regard such emotions with transience, and as if washed away by a
torrent, they left her mind, replaced by the more immediate sensory perceptions
of the surrounding area.
After traversing the darkened depths for some time,
the pair soon entered the main laboratory. It was lit by flickering flames of
green that had been contained - suspended by magic, their central attachments
nowhere to be seen. Large, burnt cauldrons of questionable integrity bubbled
over with rainbow-coloured goop that swirled aimlessly all around, spilling
onto the ground into a soup of wet earth mud that oozed across the uneven dirt
floor. The walls were lined with unused body parts, presumably to be used as
backups for more sinister creations that had yet to be devised. Various other
implements of Necromantic importance sat, un-cleaned, on blood-caked
workbenches, where colonies of flies had developed. They were of stainless
steel construction, and the parts uncovered by viscera shone in the sickly
green firelight.
It soon became apparent that whatever guarded this
place had been alerted to their presence.
‘Something must be done about these mindless
abominations!’ Katarina exclaimed, disparaging all sense of modesty. ‘They need
to be slain. There’s nothing else that can be done for them now.’ She was right;
the mindless beasts had lost all semblance of humanity. These were not
sentient, living beings. They had not conscious thoughts but were instead
driven by base motor impulses. The sole purpose of their newly reanimated
existence revolved around the consumption of living flesh. Members of the
Crimson elite had never before encountered such a terrible abuse of forbidden
magic. One could not imagine how the rogue Summoner had managed to perform this
act of Necromancy, but that didn’t matter now. There was no time to consider
the origins of this desecration. In these unknown, non-descript catacombs, deep
beneath the cold earth of a Noxian graveyard, unspeakable acts of evil had been
performed, and regardless of the consequences, Katarina and Talon had been
assigned the task of investigating it – no questioned asked. What they now saw
before their eyes was something that few had seen, and none had ever spoken of
such things from a first-hand account.
‘Get ready,’ said Talon, ‘they are armed with
makeshift weapons, and don’t let them bite you!’ he explained. Katarina was
already crouching low to take on a better fighting stance. Their entrance to
this laboratory had alerted the resident undead, as indicated by the crashing
over of lab tables and loud groaning sounds of unseen monsters that had been
left to guard the premises. Talon moved to the side of one of the dark cave
overhangs, poised and ready to strike. The first abomination shambled forward,
his ghastly visage a mix of rotten flesh and patchwork limbs. The skin was
gray, dead, and face was wiry with contorted muscle movements. His arms flailed
wildly, and his hands, the fingers of which ending in cracked yellow nails,
grasped for something to slash. Diminished motor functions made it nearly
impossible for the beast to be anything close to precise, but what it lacked in
coordination it made up for in sheer, brute strength. Its hobbling motions
quickened, and it growled with intensity – a bloodthirsty growl that bespoke of
pure dread.
Sooner than was to be expected this beast lunged
forward, where it swung outward in a wide arc. Fortunately the attack caught
nothing but cold, stale air, as Talon had paced back far quicker than the beast
could compensate for. To the well-trained assassin, this was child’s play, but
in the back of his mind he realized that underestimating the power of an undead
beast was not a wise course of action. Soon, more slavering voices could be
heard echoing against the damp rock walls. At that point it became
clear that there were more. No time to stop think- in an act of impulse Talon
lashed out swiftly with his right arm that had attached to it a menacing
short-sword. The attack pierced his opponent right through the chest wall. Upon
extracting the blade with a wrenching, backward motion, the bloated cavity
erupted with rotten viscera that flopped to the ground in a gruesome heap.
Talon tore outwards once more with his wrist-mounted weapon, causing the undead
to fall to the ground in a pile of its own spilled guts. Katarina cringed at
the gruesome display, but no sooner had she done this than she took notice of a
shadowy being that lurked behind Talon, attempting to flank the assassin.
Immediately she lashed out with her own daggers at the corporeal form. In an
instant her daggers touched flesh and sank deeply into it - the undead she
struck gave forth a brutal howl of agony before being eviscerated into ribbons.
Katarina pummeled the beast with both weapons, inflicting multiple stab wounds
to its face and chest, where the strikes would be most effective. She gouged
and slashed until no more sounds were heard, and then she took a step back. Her
ravaged opponent slumped to the ground in a shredded pile of freshly
dismembered bits. Two down, she thought. Talon, looking somewhat surprised,
resisted the urge to hug her. As they were both now covered with the blood of
zombies, it was duly noted that this would have been an unwise course of
action.
‘We need to get out of this place,’ said Talon,
‘and with great haste. There’s no telling how many more of these beasts are
lurking about.’ He scanned the lab for exits. His mind raced to come up with a
solution. Should they burn the place? There was no good to be had in a place
like this. It’d be better off as a smoking crater. He spoke in-between
thrusts and parries with an undead far greater than the one he’d slayed
previously. To assist him, Katarina bounded off the slick sides of one of the
rock walls to her left and leapt forward with both weapons aimed at its throat.
The daggers slid with little resistance through the thick, wiry neck of the
beast, and black ooze, presumably the remains of congealed blood, burst out of
the wound and got onto her exposed arms, where it began to sizzle and burn. She
yelped in pain, withdrew to a shadowy corner, and winced.
‘Careful!’ yelled Talon. He finished off the undead
by performing one swift slash outward, severing the neck completely and
watching as the head thudded to the ground and rolled out of sight. ‘Avoid the
blood – it’s contaminated!’
‘Yes I realize that now…’ she said defensively,
trying her best to wipe the blood free of her arm. Perhaps it would have been
best if she’d come prepared with a full-bodied outfit, but it was too late for
that. There was no time to consider what-ifs. ‘Protect me while I dress this
wound,’ she said gravely, examining how the skin of her arm had turned from
soft white to black, and it began to bubble. The pain had subsided at least,
but she was now worried about permanent nerve damage, and possible amputation.
‘Relax,’ said Talon reassuringly. ‘Use this.’ He
withdrew from his side-pouch a vial of liquid that was turquoise in colour, and
it appeared quite viscous. He uncorked it with his teeth in a swift motion and
then dumped it on her wound. She squealed in pain for but a moment, and watched
as the concoction seared the area, causing a sizzling sound and smoke to rise
from it. Or was it steam? It didn’t matter. What concerned her more was how
Talon had thought to prepare for such an infection when it was clear to her that
neither of them had encountered such enemies.
‘I got this form the apothecary before we left for
the mission, he advised I take some for situations like this, though i called
him crazy for thinking we’d ever need it.’
Katarina said nothing, but continued glancing down
at her healing wound. Her skin had now changed to a greenish-teal colour where
the mixture had counteracted with the poisoned blood, and although there was
little light in the darkened cave, she observed how the area had started to
glow neon. ‘Do you always deal with glow-in-the dark medicine?’ she said
lightly. Talon didn’t say a word but resealed the mixture and placed it back in
his pouched, giving what seemed to be a sigh of relief. Clearly he cared about
Katarina more than he showed.
‘We’ve got to move, there will be more upon us
soon,’ he said with more hints of concern. Katarina re-holstered her daggers
and stood up again. The pain in her arm had disappeared, and she was happy to
continue the fighting. Off in the distance, the sound of movement could be
heard, and the terrible voices of more undead began to echo once more
throughout the cave.
‘We’ll have to fight out way through them,’ she
explained assuredly, keeping her hands placed at the hilts of her dual weapons.
In these dying caves, it appeared that the only course of action was to
continue slaying a pathway to an exit, somewhere to safety; they had to get out
of here.
They progressed through a narrowing pathway lit by
some ominous green flame-buckets suspended to the top of the cave, bolted on by
some unseen magical bond. It seemed that the rogue Summoner had retrofitted
this very cave to act as his living quarters for some time. Bits of food,
scraps mostly, could be seen on the damp earth in the firelight. Off in the
corner was a makeshift bed, where a few tattered blankets and a torn pillow did
lie, and there was also a small table with a melted candle, still lit, but
that wasn’t all. There were piles and piles of moldy old books. Forbidden books
– forbidden knowledge. He’d used these texts to grift the secrets of undead
summoning rituals, knowing full well that the Noxian government had forbidden
such activities for personal use. It had been noted that Dr. Mundo, the most
revered scientist in Noxus, had been granted special access to such magic, but
he was the unique exception, as he was under constant supervision while
performing such experiments. This rogue Summoner must have stolen the books,
and was clearly violating all established common sense by doing this. What he
had hoped to accomplish was beyond reasoning. Perhaps it was just an act of
anarchy to be summoning minions such as this, Talon wondered, but regardless of
motive, he would soon be brought to justice, either by apprehension or a swift
end brought upon by the blade. Without time to react, the scene became flooded
with hordes of slavering undead minions. An undead ghouls tide broke through a
wooden stable door not far from where the pair of assassins stood. The first ghoul came at them, mouth slavering with disease and
slobber, disgusting. Talon reached out towards the minion with his dagger and
eviscerated it in a moment’s notice. There were plenty more to contend with.
Katarina became cornered by a demonic hound and she raced towards it with her
arms held high above her head, each one carrying a specially attuned blade that
blazed blue in the darkness. She lunged at the beast with her legs outstretched
in some acrobatic assault, leapt forward, and barreled to the ground in an
outstanding display of dexterity. Talon watched as more intruders spilled
through the cob-web infested entry-way. More and more, one after another, the
mindless beasts toppled over one another to get near them, to sink their
stained, rotten claws into new flesh. They were possessed bipeds with bloodthirsty
intentions, seeking only a quick meal to fuel their base motor functions.
‘There, to the bridge!’ talon exclaimed, pointing
over to a small footbridge that lead to an underground cave. Katarina rushed
ahead with Talon closely behind her. They were both breathing heavily at this
point, breaths accompanied by quick bursts of condensation. ‘Just keep going,’
he said, seeming to know where this unknown path would lead.
They went ever deeper within the cave, hearing the
slavering beasts gain ground behind them as they did. It was starting to make
Katarina panic, and she didn’t have time to lose concentration. She focused her
mind as swiftly as possible, imagining in her mind’s eye the desperate tip of a
newly brandished blade, ready for killing. Talon had already made several
strides ahead of her, and his motions were without falter. His bladed cloak
scraped and sparked against the sides of the narrowing cave.
‘What is this harrowed den that you’ve brought me
to?’ she questioned ominously.
‘Keep quiet, and stay close,’ he interjected,
clearly experiencing the same adrenaline rush. They climbed and bounded ahead,
and then, the small passage ahead came into view.
There, the undead had managed to congregate, either
in anticipation for the arrival of the assassins or purely by coincidence.
Considering the lack of foresight that these minions seemed to exhibit, Talon
thought their actions part of the latter.
‘Get over here, you monsters…’
he growled. The blades travelled from the sides of his hips to being airborne
in a lightning motion that was nearly impossible to detect from an untrained
perspective. The blades whistled through the air before striking two of the
minions with loud thuds. One had been stricken in the chest and toppled to the
ground immediately, slumping down into a pool of his own blood. The other
undead had the misfortunate of catching the whistling blade directly in the
forehead, where it proceeded to slice cleanly through, where it exited with a
clump of decaying brain matter
And Talon stood there, observing the fire from the
match as the wick burned steadily. The smell of sulfur and ash filled
his nostrils.
‘Are you sure this won’t create significant fire
hazard?’ said Katarina half-heartedly. Of course she knew it would, but she was
curious to note his reaction.
‘Well, that’s the idea,’ replied Talon calmly. He
began twiddling the match between his index and middle fingers, observing how
the flame danced upon the match as a burning candlewick might. The light from
the tiny flame reflected orange across the blue hues of his glass visor.
By now, the viscous liquid from the punctured
barrel had formed and even spread throughout the room, and it did not take long
for acrid stench to develop. The smell was not unlike average grade petroleum,
so right off the bat he knew that it would burn well. Both assassins stood for
a moment, gazing over the scene that was about to be incinerated. Katarina was
a bit more cautious, for she knew that if their line of escape became
obstructed, there might be a cause for concern, but ultimately she wanted to
complete the mission and head home knowing that the lab had been completely
destroyed.
‘You might want to get to a safe place,’ said
Talon, as he motioned his hand to a tall rock barricade near the back of the
lab, where they'd entered from. Without hesitation she complied, and motioned
over to the rocks, crouched, and continued to stare intently. Part of her
wanted to see the blaze in action. In fact, she wanted to see everything burn.
All the undead machinations of evil that this rogue Summoner had created, all
the lab equipment that flickered so ominously in the wicked green lamplight,
all burned right to the ground and never to be heard from or seen again. But
her better judgement interjected with the notion that to do so would not have
been a wise course of action, as bearing witness to this event would most
likely lead to instant death to whoever would be so ridiculous as to observe
it. At that point she recognized that there had always been a part of her that
craved destruction. She had a mean streak satiated only by witnessing mayhem
every now and then; perhaps this trait alone was responsible for making her
such a proficient assassin.
Talon, on the other hand, had seen far worse. More
often than not, events such as this barely affected him. He’d seen things that
no person should be forced to see, done things that no person should do, and
this was just another scrap of chaos to numb his overactive mind.
He flicked the match, and walked
calmly away as the laboratory of death became consumed by the ravenous flames.
The heat waves seemed to penetrate his armor, filling him with warmth. It was a
comfortable feeling, and as the cave quickly became depleted of oxygen to feed
the flames, he smiled, and carried onward at a more reasonable pace. Katarina
had been several steps ahead of him, but even she could not resist a backwards
glance, or perhaps two. The cracking, whooshing, and rippling of fire eating
through solid material produced a satisfying collage of sounds that
reverberated in her mind, and it was times like these that she wished to have
had a way of recording events.
Becoming somewhat fearful of
being burned alive, the pair rushed out of the cave now. There had been no
cause for concern along the way, as it appeared that all the undead had vacated
the premises. Katarina became somewhat concerned over this sudden lack of
enemies to kill. ‘Where do you suppose they’ve run off to?’ she asked. Talon
didn’t seem to hear her. He was too busy trying to escape the cave. The pathway
they travelled through seemed to be growing narrower with each footfall
forward. Moss hanging from the ceiling of the cave obstructed his view, and the
slickness flowing down the rock walls on either side of him made it difficult
to get a firm grip. They had not come this way. This was a new system of caves
altogether, and Katarina was beginning to panic.
‘Where are we going?’ she said.
Her eyes peered wide as they waded through the ever thickening moss. Tangled
patches of mushrooms grew in corners unchecked, and both assassins would step
though them, unknowingly, and the mushrooms would explode into brown mush. This
produced a slipping hazard that neither travelled wanted to fall prey to.
Katarina kept her balance by keeping one arm outstretched and grasping Talon’s
right shoulder, the fabric of his undershirt bunched between her gloved
fingers. This was altogether uncomfortable for Talon, but he decided that there
was no use in complaining. A faint light source traced through the mounds of
moss before them. Talon prepped his blade, and took on a fighting stance.
‘Who’s there?’ he said. The light
before him continued to flicker, and Katarina squeezed her head over his
shoulder to catch a glimpse.
‘Hello!’ came a shrill voice. It
was Tynea. She’d somehow managed to climb down here and locate the assassins,
despite her strict orders to remain above ground. Tynea’s blazing torchlight
sifted through the decaying plant life, filling the narrow passage with
visibility. The feelings of claustrophobia diminished, and Katarina breathed an
audible sigh of relief. Talon, on the other hand, appeared quite confused.
‘You were supposed to remain on
the surface,’ he explained. Tynea, respiring quickly due to lack of breath,
held her hand to her chest as she more closely approached the tired champions.
‘No need for that, Talon,’ she
replied. ‘Swain is here, and he brought reinforcements with him!’
‘What? High General Swain is
here?’ said Katarina.
‘Yes, there is a ground skirmish
taking place above ground right as we speak! I was ordered to come down here
and retrieve the both of you, before it’s too late. Something has been awoken.
There’s no time!’ In the same instant, Tynea beckoned forward with her free
hand, and began to shoot back up the tunnel from whence she came. Talon and
Katarina were not far behind her, and they rushed now, not wanting to miss out
on the action taking place above.
‘You here that?’ said Katarina.
‘General Swain is here. This must be far more serious than it was made out to
be.’ Again, Talon said nothing. He concentrated on moving as fast as possible
through the slippery terrain. Tynea was apt to travel far quicker through this
area, as she had special grip shoes that allowed her to scale the slimy rock
without any issues. Though she had been cautious with the torch she carried.
The mounds of overhanging moss was like permanent drapery in the cave, and she
had at times incinerated bunches of it with the torch, creating a strongly
fragrant residual smoke that they now breathed in freely.
‘What’s that smell?’ commented
Katarina, her nose wrinkled as she took notice.
‘I’m sorry,’ replied Tynea, shrugging
her shoulders. Talon coughed a few times, and rubbed his eyes.
‘Whatever is in these fumes can’t
be good. I suggest we press on,’ Katarina said. ‘Tell me about Swain, when did
he get here, and what happened?’
‘He just arrived no less hand
twenty minutes ago,’ said Tynea. ‘I came down searching for you two as soon as
the order was given. What did you find?’
‘A research lab,’ said Talon. ‘We
burned it to the ground. We were attacked twice prior to doing so. When we got
to the lab, we knew what to do.’
‘Oh my,’ gasped Tynea, ‘I hope
the flames were contained.’
‘No matter,’ Talon replied. ‘The
flames will eat themselves out soon enough. I wouldn’t be concerned.
‘How much longer does this
passageway go?’ asked Katarina. She was fighting with the moss above, as it was
getting wrapped and tangled in her crimson mane.
Perhaps this is why having such hair is not recommended for members of
the Crimson Elite, she
thought. The fumes were getting to her, and she was beginning to lose her
concentration.
‘I’m… not entirely sure,’ replied
Tynea, looking somewhat confused. The trio soon reached a fork in the cave, and
Tynea simply stood there, dumbfounded, unable to recall the correct path to
take.
‘Well, which way?’ asked
Katarina, looking concerned. ‘Do you remember?’
‘I… I don’t remember…’ said
Tynea. Both Talon and Katarina looked at her, as if she’d just been possessed.
‘What do you mean? You just
passed through here, no less than a few minutes ago, and you’re saying you
can’t remember?’ said Talon. Tynea shook her head, and tried with all her
concentration to reconcile a plausible backtrack in order to determine the
appropriate pathway. She drew a blank, and the indecisiveness caused Katarina
to cross her arms in frustration. Talon eyed his glinting blade, trying to take
his mind off the confusion at hand. His mind began to drift, without really
noticing it.
‘What… is this place?’ Tynea
mused. She removed her black combat gloves, and began to trace the wall of the
cave with her fingers, appearing quite fulfilled at the tactile response she
felt. She smiled, and laughed a little, as if there were no pressing matters at
hand. Talon, observing this curious display, simply watched; mouth slowly
opening, and eyes drooping. Katarina scratched her head, and sat down on a
large rock in between the fork.
‘I wonder what time it is?’ she
asked. ‘This place is very damp indeed.’
‘These rocks are… so old,’ Talon
said as he examined a mound of rather curiously stacked rocks. Katarina
proceeded to lie down on the cave floor, extending her limbs through the moss
as though it were a large green blanket. The vegetation felt cool to the touch,
and she wanted to fall asleep now. ‘It’s really nice here,’ she said, ‘perhaps
we should stay. Tynea was carving a strange image on the side of the wall with
her knife, and not paying attention to Katarina at all. Talon put his hand to
his forehead, and felt a strange thumping that correlated with his accelerated
heartbeat.
‘I think something is wrong,’ he
said. ‘We must move, now.’
‘But why?’ asked Tynea, with a
high pitched voice. She sounded childish, as though she’d had her favorite toy
taken away. She rested her longsword on the ground, and crossed her arms in
frustration.
‘No, this is wrong!’ exclaimed Talon.
He fought to shake his thoughts from a state of complete distraction. Something
was affecting his mind, tendrils of confusion, and he was unable to break free
from it. There were sounds coming from the unseen corners of the caves, voices,
sounds of movement as feet shuffled upon the sodden floor. The last thing Talon
saw before gazing off into a listless sleep was the stern visage of High
General Swain, his gazed both fixed and displeased at the ridiculous display
before him.
“What is going on here?!’ he
bellowed. Had one of the assassins been in a wakeful state, there might have
been a reply, but it appeared as though whatever was in the thick mops of
fungus suspended above had rendered the combatants docile.
Hours passed before anyone heard
from the trio. The intoxicating effects of the burning moss fumes had put them
into a deep sleep, and virtually no medicine was capable of breaking them out
of it. The medics had carried them out of the cave on stretchers, all the while
shaking their heads, as if stumbling onto a scene of adolescent drunkenness.
The one saving grace resided in the fact that the topside skirmish had been
short and a non-threat. When Talon had set the lab ablaze, the remaining
inhabitants of the underground complex had literally been smoked out, and
proceeded to burst through to the surface. Luckily, Swain had arrived with his
tactical squad just in time to cut them down.
‘First a squad of my finest gets
lost in some cave, then, upon being recovered by the novice, you get yourselves
sedated by moss fumes? What is this, a joke?’ said Swain. ‘Next thing you know,
the Crimson Elite will be accepting jesters and jokers to fill the ranks. Bah!’
Katarina was staring at the ground, looking quite displeased. Talon, still
shaking off the effects of the moss fumes, was standing near a large triangular
window with his arms crossed, trying not to appear overly dejected. In reality,
he was quite mad at himself for allowing such a blatant display of unprofessionalism
to occur, though in truth it was not entirely his fault. Tynea had not been
careful enough with her torch, and the fumes had so quickly filled the cave.
Talon tried to explain this to Swain, but it didn’t seem to matter. The only
matter of import at this point in time was that Swain was mad, and when he was
mad, it would take a heap of good news to bring him from this state. ‘This
offence will not go unrecognized,’ he said. He began to make his way around the
room. His crippled leg made movement difficult, so in effect he walked with a
noticeable gait. He was wearing a formal Noxian uniform decked with medals,
pins, and other miscellaneous items of recognition, and his trusty raven was
riding co-pilot on his shoulder. Very little was known of Swain’s raven, aside
from the fact that it was with him at all times, and was even capable of
inflicting harm upon those who challenged Swain in combat. The black bird was
menacing, overgrown, and far more aggressive than most. Whatever Swain had done
to it had granted it a special foresight, and some say that the Raven talked to
Swain during battle, when it would fly high and observe the situation, only to
return moments later with vital reconnaissance that only Swain was privy to.
‘I’ll have you know,’ said Swain,
‘that I simply do not tolerate nonsense such as this. I don’t care if it was an
accident. If word about this gets out, it will put my entire reputation as a
High General at risk, and we’ve got enough bad publicity as it is. You don’t
even want to know how many reporters we’ve had to censor already. Hours ago,
this place was a hotbed of hostile enemy activity, and where were you three to
be found? Sleeping, in the bottom of some forgotten cave, next to a burning
laboratory that could have killed you. Nonsense.’
‘But sir,’ said Talon, ‘it wasn’t
our choice. The new girl messed up. She was the one with the torch, didn’t she
explain?’
‘Do you think for one moment that
I’m going to believe that two vets got interfered with by a novice?’ Swain
said, his voice spilling over with anger, ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t dare admit
to such a folly!’ He turned, and looked a Talon. ‘Not to mention that a major
source of evidence was burned right to the ground. We have no leads on the
whereabouts of this Summoner, and now, thanks to the recklessness of your
actions, we’re even further behind!’
‘Sir, it wasn’t like that,’
replied Katarina. She was facing him closely, looking into his dark eyes. Her
fatigues were in a state of misalignment, and her hair a matted mess of thick red
strands teased outward in every direction, occasioned by a stuck leaf or
branch. ‘She didn’t know. None of us knew. We were unfamiliar with the strange
properties of the caves, and had we known, this would not have happened!’ Swain
took a moment as he considered her words. He was a man of discipline, stalwart
Noxian ideals that shared the same unbreakable resolve as he exhibited in daily
life. When something was not completed to his standard, there was hell to pay,
and he ensured that all those responsible for mishaps such as this would be
held accountable.
‘So, should I simply terminate
our new recruit, because her leadership lacked the insight needed to
successfully complete the mission? Teach her a lesson? I think not,’ he said.
He closed a dusty old tomb, a mission journal, and continued to pace around the
room, his cane tapping loudly on the granite floor. ‘Consider this,’ he said
shortly after, ‘had my men not arrived when they did, those monsters would have
grouped up to assault civilian homes, and the blood of civilians would be on
your hands! How does that sit with you?’ Katarina broke eye contact and stared
off into the distance. Her mind could not produce a worthwhile response. In
truth, she did not care about the fate of civilians. In her mind, if they
weren’t strong enough to defend themselves, and fell prey to mindless beasts
with little to no motor coordination, then they deserved to die, plain and
simple. Swain took her response of silence and regarded it with disdain. He
scoffed, and left the room to return to his unit, which had been waiting in an
open field outside the tower. There were eight of them, mostly from the Noxian
military police entrusted to protect Swain wherever he went. On such short
notice, they had been the only soldiers able to provide assistance.
Katarina said nothing to Talon.
She simply wondered around the small room, trying to contemplate what Swain had
said. She felt inferior to him, defeated in some way, as though he’d just
knocked her down a notch. It was a terrible feeling to lose the respect of the
High General, regardless of the circumstance by which it was lost. Tynea was
nowhere to be found, and this troubled her further. She wanted to scald the new
recruit, but a small part of her knew that Swain had already taken it upon
himself to do so. She glanced over to the corner were Talon stood, and could
tell that he was mad. It was a supressed anger that was held in check by the
blank expression upon his face, and he did not wish to speak about the event.
At the same moment, they both headed towards the door to leave.
Orange bands of predawn sunlight
stretched across the Noxian cityscape, and the outlines of the buildings flared
yellow. Across the small, open field there were lanterns, tents, sleeping bags,
and chairs organized to a proper military standard. The fabric of the tents was
a deep-seated green, worn away by decades of use, and most of them contained
battle-weary occupants. What bothered Katarina most was that she missed another
chance at bloodshed. She ran her fingers through her hair and flipped it back,
where the sunlight shining at her back seemed to set the red man ablaze. Tynea
was still nowhere to be found.
Chapter 5: A Delightful Summons
By noon, clouds had overtaken the
brilliant sunlight. Talon and Katarina had returned to the war center in a
state of exhaustion. Running on no sleep at all, they slogged through the
bustling Noxian streets and tried to avoid contact at all costs. They seldom
spoke. Talon eyed the sidewalk most of the way, and he thought about Tynea. Who
was she? What did she want with them? Something was going on, and Talon wanted
to get to the bottom of it. There was a strange aura of secrecy surrounding the
induction of Tynea into the Crimson Elite, and Katarina had felt the same way.
At first it was believed that such speculation was a result of sleep
deprivation and paranoia, but with the way things had gone, further
investigation was definitely necessary. Before returning to the High Command,
they stopped over at Sinful Succulence. It was late in the afternoon now, and
most of the lunch crowd had cleared out. Morgana was musing around in the back
room when the pair entered, preparing dinner-time recipes and ensuring that
Srillex was keeping on task. Talon pushed open the thick door and listened for
the familiar sound the bells that Morgana had installed. She said they were necessary;
otherwise there would be no way for her to tell when someone had entered the
shop.
‘Greetings!’ exclaimed the Fallen
Angel. Her eyes appeared particularly luminous. It was curious to see how the
power of magic had affected her. Sinewy wings extended from her back, her hair
a shade of purple that was far darker than the violet tone of her skin.
