"…Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Four days ago…
The wind swept through the Demacian cityscape, slithering in between the heavy marble buildings, invading every crevice with uninhibited abandon. More snow had fallen the night before, and banks had formed along every building and every street. The wind was frigid and burned the cheeks of everyone who stepped out of their homes despite the sharp, almost violent waves of sunshine that fell upon Runeterra. Atop the spires of the great walls of the city proper, the guards roamed among the gold sheathed spire and the snapping and cracking banners, watching as wagons and travellers moved up and down the east road. Some spoke softly among themselves as they performed their assigned duties diligently, while others spoke with louder, more jealous tones of those who got to observe the fight at the palace.
"She may be green, but she fights like no other." One guard's voice cut through the others, carried away like sheer whispers on the wind. "Her power is inhuman."
"I mean… she is a dragon." Another soldier laughed as he raised his crossbow and let it rest upon his shoulder.
"Half-dragon." The first soldier corrected, nodding to himself. "That why she looks human... mostly. I've seen how she gets when she's angry. It's not something I'd like to see a second time because I don't think I would live to see it a third time."
"Still…" The second said, sighing softly as he grinned and leaned against the parapet, glancing down towards palace beyond the city. "I'm jealous of the Prince. A hot piece of…"
"Careful what you say." A guard stopped his roving patrol and leaned his lance against one of the rises of the parapet before he pulled his helmet free and ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair. He shook out a ponytail before setting the helmet down at one foot to adjust the armor plating upon his shin. "She may be half dragon, half human, but she is most definitly part dog. My brother has seen how she has amazing hearing and smell. Who's to say that she's not already on her way to take you out?"
"Bah." The first said, waving him off. "Just you wait. You remember seeing the prince leaving earlier? Mark my words, she won't be long behind."
"...Surely you don't think that the Seneschal is going to lose so easily?" The sergeant paused next to his subordinates, the man keeping his lance posted at his side as he turned and glanced at the chatting guards. "Master Xin Zhao held the record for the Noxian's own Fleshing for several decades. They may call the prince 'The Last Dragonslayer', but by the end of the day they may have to revoke that title…"
"You didn't get to see Shyvana take down Captain Crownguard the way I did, Sarge." The first guardsman laughed softly as he leaned heavily on his weapon, looking out over the snow covered landscape. The trees had been cleared out several hundred yards, giving the crossbowmen, cannons, and mages a clear line of sight should the walls of the city ever come under attack. However, far below, thousands of people swarmed about in a sea of tents that stretched out from the base of the walls. Refugees lined the entrance of the city, some demanding work, others demanding better living conditions, but there was only so much that could be offered. Thousands of jobs and thousands of emergency homes within the city had already been filled, but with every passing day, hundreds more refugees arrived at the city gates.
"You were on duty then?" The sergeant asked, a smile playing over his face.
The guardsman nodded. "It was a shitshow, sir, but damn that dragon girl is terrifying." He glanced at the second guardsman as a grin grew on his face. "Total hotty, too."
The sergeant chuckled for a moment before sighing softly and frowning to himself, leaning to the side, shifting all the weight to one of his legs. "That is the prince's girlfriend you're speaking of, guardsman. Best not let him hear you saying that.
"I was talking about the flames, sarge." The guardsman laughed. "Where's your mind at right now sir?"
"Not here." The sergeant chortled. "Back home with my wife. Back to your duties men. Stay vigilant, friends."
"Aye, sarge." The first guardsman nodded as he turned back to his post. "I'll do tha-..."
The sergeant of the guard paused and frowned, hesitating. The guard's voice had cut out mid sentence for some reason. He started to turn back towards the guard at the parapet, but a flash of brilliant red froze the man in his tracks. He felt his throat sease up as the flash of silver came deathly quick, aimed for his throat. "Alar-...!"
His voice died in his throat as arterial spray showered the tan stone.
The sergeant fell down next to his subordinate, blood pouring from his throat as he watched the other guards lay dead and dying. The guardsman's throat had been slashed and his eyes were now cold and distance, staring off as if a goddess was descending down to take him to heaven. The sergeant looked up as a hooded man leaned over his face, a cold smile upon his face as darkness began to creep along the edges of his vision. Standing next to him, a redhaired woman looked down at him with disinterest as she leaned down as wiped the blood from her knife onto his tunic.
"Only fools hesitate." The woman hissed softly as she polished her knife to a brilliant sheen with the hem of her cloak. "Talon, report."
"We've cleared the guards and put our own men into position to blow the gate when we need." The cloaked man growled with a deep bass timbre. "I know Swain said that the gate would blow when we moved the hextech responder he had given us through, but Gerard say that the receiver isn't responding to any sort of signal. The Demacians must have cleared out his little trick."
"Has the security been heightened?" The redhead hissed angrily, frowning as she looked down along the wall. "I thought the plan was foolproof?"
"Looks like Swain lied. " Talon growled as he rolled his eyes. "Again. Luckily, I still have a few friends left among the street urchins here. Apparently the word on the street is that a Piltovan scientist crossed through the gate with some sort of self propelled cart of his own creation. The cart exploded not long after passing through the gate, and a couple of Demacian soldiers were hurt, though no one was hurt. Guess who was responsible?"
The redhead sighed heavily. "Shyvana and Jarvan?"
"Yep." Talon grumbled as he shook his head, though the grumble turned into sharp snarl towards the end. "They just don't know how to keep clean, do they?"
"Not at all." The redhead sighed again. "Swain will be pissed, of course. That explains why we got tagged with this duty."
"Of course he left us with the short stick." Talon snarled, shaking his head. "Fucking typical bureaucratic bullshit. So what do we want to do? Our men are in position already to extract whatever the fuck High Command deemed so important that we insert under Black Ops conditions."
"We'll make it work. " The redhead sighed softly. " I want you to make sure we have enough explosives to blow through the east gate for our escape. I don't think we're going be able to move the cargo from the mausoleum without taking them directly through the gate. So get it sorted and then proceed with your distraction as planned."
Talon grumbled as he ran a hand over his mouth and frowned. "About that. You know, I've been thinking. I know this monster is supposedly famous... he killed Jarvan's grandfather or something, right? Legend says he is a monster of a man, almost half again as tall as I am. How exactly are we going to get his remains out of here? I know we have a decent team here, Kat, but how exactly do you plan on..."
"Take it easy, Talon" Katarina sighed. "That part of the plan, Swain assured me that when he assigned me this mission, would be taken care of. Trusted agents he said."
"Whatever." Talon grumbled as he shook his head. He stepped towards the notched walls that looked out over the city.
"I don't like this anymore than you do, Talon." Katarina said softly, shaking her head. "With all the questions still remaining around my father, Jarvan being injured, and the mobilization going on I hate to say it but this plan couldn't have been implemented at a worse time. "
"That's where I come in, right?" Talon said as he perched upon the wall. "Get in, make a show of trying to attack the king, get right back out and make a run north towards the ford at Golden Crossing, which they will conveniently follow me to, because I will have accidentally dropped a copy of my orders that states I escape through the Freljord. They follow me north, and when I empty the city of guards, you waltz on out without a problem. "
"Right." Katarina said, looking up at the sky. She frowned; it was impossible to tell the time of day in the overcast sky. "You up for it?"
"I wouldn't be here If I weren't, now would I?" Talon rumbled, a smirk playing over his face.
"There's a one more thing." Katarina said softly, a frown playing over her face. "Make sure you don't hurt anyone if you can avoid it. I don't want to escalate the issues in Kalamanda by attacking the wrong person."
"Fearing for the prince's safety?" Talon smirked.
"Not so much." Katarina grimace, but a thin smirk played over her face, "Just the flames and temper that usually follows. Now go. We both have a job to complete."
Talon nodded his head and disappeared over the edge of the wall, dropping out of sight.
One day ago...
"And you're sure that they can complete the mission?" The voice was sultry sweet, but there was a venom to the tone as if a viper was slithering just inside. "It's been three days already, and still nothing. The Demacians even captured our little security measure thanks to that little bitch that was working with the prince…"
"The dragon girl?" The voice was cold and scratchy as the man coughed sharply once before humming a little reassurance to himself.
The woman shook her head. "No, no, the other one. The one with the chicken?"
"Ah yes, the ranger with the eagle…" The man drummed his fingers along the desk several times before exhaling slowly. "A shame really, but they won't get anything from my subordinate." There was a tone of satisfaction in his voice when he spoke. "I made sure of that personally, you have nothing to worry about. But now to more pertinent issues, our little operation."
"Indeed." The woman mused softly, stroking her chin. "I ensured the girl wouldn't talk a while ago. But her little brother is another matter. He's a street urchin with connections to the black market and the underworld that even I can't track, and with the liberal use of their given freedom as of late it has left them able to elude even my eyes."
"Katarina and Talon will complete their mission, Evaine." There was moment of silence from the gravely voice before it croaked a shark chuckle. "I've made sure they gain or lose nothing by completing this mission." He watched her expression turn sour for a moment before letting a croak of a chuckle escape his lips. "But I suppose you're mad because you go by Emilia now, yes?"
"Indeed." Emilia mused softly, the mocking interest she injected into her voice couldn't hide the malice cloaked behind a curtain of painfully weak sincerity.
"And what of your own compatriots?" The man scanned the room as if he expected the mentioned missing visitors to suddenly appear from his simple beck and call.
"They shall be here… in time." The cloaked woman said softly, glancing over her shoulder. A frown materialized on her face briefly as she turned back to the balding man. He had steepled his fingers before him as he leaned forward, drawing his mouth up behind his hands.
He sighed softly. "Very well." He looked up and watched as his guest's head twisted about.
"Two approach. Shall I deal with them?" Emilia spun, starting towards one of the long shadows cast by the weakly flickering fire, but the eerie caw cut through the air as the spindly bird blinked its six eyes, only one closing at a time, sweeping around its face in a wave.
"Beatrice, silence." The man growled softly, though he stroked a hand along the oily raven's feathers. "Stay a while, Emilia, and stay your blade and sorcery." The invitation was not intended as such, rather the tone was that of a command. The woman, a dark cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a hood pulled low over her brow, frowned but nodded once. Though she did not disappear, she slunk deeper to the shadows, crossing her arms across her chest beneath the cloak.
A sharp knock sounded against something wooden and solid like a post, originating somewhere just beyond the direction of the door.
"Enter." The balding man ordered officiously. Though there was only cloth, when the fabric of the tent was drawn back it revealed a large wooden flag post that stood sentinel to the door, a guard flanking it on either side. Two men swept into the room, their large statures silhouetted by flickering flames from beyond the doorway. The tent darkened for a few moments before the door fell shut behind the two newcomers, drowning them in the shadows that engulfed the room.
The first was massively broad across the chest, a few inches in his favor over his compatriot as he looked around, glancing over the head of the second man who had followed him through the door. A single grey stripe colored his dark hair, swept back over his head as he approached and saluted proudly, planting a terrifyingly large headsman's axe before him as he fell in at attention, holding the salute. His armor was heavy, a dark grey dressed in dark red swaths of heavily reinforced canvas. The cloak was gathered around his shoulders and spilled backwards into a cape that fell to tattered ruins at his ankles, worn from months of marching, training, and combat. He stood at attention until it was returned by the balding officer, only then lowering his guard to stand at parade rest, waiting patiently.
The second did not have the larger one's manners, though what he lacked in stature he made up in charisma. He wore a massive smile half hidden behind his beard, the long tails falling from either side of his mustache and the tip of his chin. His hair was turned up like a cockatoo, and his grin was equally flashy. He grunted as his eyes settled on the vaguely feminine shape shrouded by shadow and cloak. He started to turn towards her, grunting softly in interest as he made a show of flexing in an odd pose that wasn't even close to natural for what he was trying to do.
"Draven." The broader soldier barked, pulling the shorter one's attention away from the woman and back to the matter at hand. "General Darius, reporting General Swain. I've brought my brother, as per your request." There was the subtle hints of resentment and confusion in his voice at the mention of his brother. A snicker escaped the younger man's throat and the older man frowned and turned slightly towards him. "If there ever was a time to shut your mouth, now would be that time."
"Draven heard ya." Cockatoo hair announced with a grin. "Draven don't care."
"You're both here, that's what matter right now." Swain mused softly, reading the emotion on his subordinates face as he pressed his hands firmly to the desk. "Gentlemen, I've called you here to Kalamanda because I need your assistance."
"You know, I usually get paid for gigs like this." Draven muttered. The hooded woman turned her head slightly and the gladiator took this as a sign to start flexing again. "What's there for me here?" He glanced over his shoulder. "No women, no taverns, nothing as far as the eye can see. You'd better hope that my time isn't wasted here."
"Your services will be more than well compensated." Swain said, nodding his head slowly.
"You should hope so, Swain." Draven growled, shaking his head. "Darius, what exactly did you drag me into?"
"Stay your frustrations, gladiator." Swain said, his smile turning cruel and twisted. "I think you have a personal interest here as well. One woman in particular that may interest you..."
"Oh?" Draven raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his grin turning vicious. "Something personal you say? Before, you had my curiosity, but now you've caught my attention." He paused and glanced at his brother before turning back to the bald general, nodding his head. "Continue."
"I thank you for your permission." There was sarcasm in the Noxian General's voice but it didn't stop him from pushing onwards. "You remember the draconian whelp who shamed you on the outskirts? She now serves under the Demacian Prince, and I have a task for you."
"The red haired, fire breathing demoness?" Draven narrowed his eyes though a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Please tell me I get to ruin her..."
"Capture her, drag her out, torture her, do what you wish to her, I do not care." Swain growled softly. "Take her, seduce her, break her, kill her, whatever you must. Do you accept this task?"
Draven let his head hang back and let out a deep chuckled. "I should have come sooner! You're letting me do whatever I want to pay that little bitch back? Oh yes, YES, YES! I am more than willing to take care of this, just let me at her!"
"There is only one stipulation." Swain growled menacing, frowning. "You must wait till I give the order for your attack to come. Too soon and all of my plans fall apart, too late and everything unravels as well. Do you understand?"
"Oooooh…" Draven growled, licking his lips as he rubbed his hands together. "I've been looking forward to this for so long." The gentle clink of metal rings on a staff resounded as the cloaked woman stepped from the shadows. She raised her staff, just barely touching the man's chin with the lengthy metal rod.
"You had best listen to his words, mercenary." She hissed softly. "There is no room for mistakes in these endeavors, and I do not tolerate the failure of men with loose lips, loose morals, and lacking convictions." Her voice was razor sharp, and the utter silence in the room was nearly deafening.
"Mercenary?" Draven snarled, spinning about, a devious frown upon his face. "What did you say to me? I'll have you know I was the prize fighter in the Pit, and I've been involved in numerous epic bouts, and I have over three hundred confirmed kills. I was trained in gladiatorial warfare and I am the top executioner in the entire Noxian armed forces. You're nothing but a… woah." Emilia stepped from the darkness and into the smoky light, her cloak hanging open to reveal her ample curves, bound by tight fitting garb. Darius took one glance and blushed lightly before turning to Draven. He started to open his mouth but froze. He shook his head after seeing the look on Draven's face.
"Brother…" There was anger and the tired grumble of a man who knew what was to come. Darius lifted his axe as if to block the shorter ones movement, but he simply laughed, and pushed it aside as he grabbed a candle and swept into the shadows. Emilia sighed softly and posted her hands upon her hips, offering him a cold but devious smile. Draven's smile grew as he waved the candle about like a scepter, sweeping in forward and bowing in a flashy manner.
"Hello there…" Draven purred, his eyes dancing down her body. His smile grew wide and sloven as he stood up and swept a hand over his hair. "And just who are you that utters such daunting words from such luscious lips?"
"Be careful what you ask for, brother." Darius muttered, wearing a cold smirk. "Your silver tongue may yet lead to your spilled blood staining your pretty face."
"You think me pretty?" Draven laughed. "You flatter me brother, but I am nothing in the company of one such as this…" He slid forward and slid an arm around the cloaked figure, his grin lascivious. "Perhaps we should retire early, my dear. I know a nice little place we can go."
"Why wait?" Emilia hissed softly, turning towards the man, her hand snaking down below his belt.
"Oh!" Draven jumped slightly, but did not retreat. "Fiesty! I like iiihiuhmit…" His voice wavered slightly as he shrunk back slightly. "Ow, ow, ow!" He snarled, swiping his hand towards the woman, but she stepped from behind him as his hand merely passed through the illusion. "WHAT!?"
"I do enjoy the subtleties…" She murmured as she raised her staff. Draven snarled as he started to turn, but the staff was already sweeping down, and it caught him on the back of the neck, dropping him to the ground. She exhaled sharply, her voice dripping with contempt. "But sometimes, it is best to deal with cancer swiftly before it festers. Jericho, their actions do not instill confidence…"
"They're here for a reason, Emilia." Swain said softly, shaking his head. "General, perhaps you'd best take your brother and retire for now?"
"Of course, sir." Darius rumbled, sweeping down and scooping up his brother. He tossed the man over his shoulder as if it were nothing and turned towards the door. He paused, glancing down at the woman. "My apologies. He often thinks with the wrong head."
Emilia snorted as the broad Noxian general retreated from the tent. "I find the younger one deplorable. Is he really necessary?"
"He is unpredictable, but that is why I brought him here." Swain sighed softly. "His ability to cause chaos and mayhem will serve him well when it comes time."
"Very well." Emilia sighed softly. Her head came up again, though this time she wore a cold smile. "Greetings, followers. Now that we are assembled… Welcome, members of the Black Rose."
Two dark figures rose up from the shadows. One had silver hair that gleamed against his crimson cloak, the other had demonically white skin and gleaming red eyes atop a curving, slender form. The later hissed softly as two spindly legs rose up from the shadows and arched forward over her shoulders. She held up a hand and let the two long legs slowly, meticulously run over her fingers before she finally deemed the others worthy of her attention. The man laid a hand over his chest and bowed his head shallowly. "Lady Leblanc, how may I be of service?"
"What news do you bring from Noxus and Darkbourne keep?"
"Darkwill's thralls are searching for something. Snatching up articles of the arcane: rituals of blood and bone, relics of the Shadow Isles, and things darker still." The man grinned softly, his voice quivering ever so slightly at the mention of blood.
"He desires things that we can offer." The multi-legged woman hissed softly as she plucked a spider from her shoulder and examined it with interest. "An interesting opportunity…"
Leblanc nodded her head. "I will bend his ear. If he is receptive, ensure we can provide what we promise."
The woman nodded as she toyed with the spider. "My followers will see it done. I only need give the word and the last of the relics will be ours."
"Good." Leblanc mused. "Will the corpse suffice for our purposes?"
"I fear that the first bout of necromancy burned away much of his soul and left us with hardly a workable husk." The man dressed in red frowned slightly, his voice turning slightly darker in tone and inflection. "I will require more supplies if we plan to finish this on time. If we do not speed up the time table…"
"I will get you your supplies." Swain nodded. "Do not worry, hemomancer."
"Very well." The man in red nodded and bowed his head, taking a step back. "We are well underway then. Soon, we will be impossible to stop."
Swain exhaled softly, catching the eye of the three guests in his tent. Emilia stepped forward, a frown on her face. "Do you doubt our abilities, general?"
Swain shook his head and raised a hand, using the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It is not your competency I worry about." He shook his head. "There are two who have proven to be a massive thorn in my side. They've ruined my plans once already, and they are already on their way here." Swain turned to teh room and noted the two other members of the Black Rose had disappeared, leaving only the seductress in his company
"You speak of those who slew the beast we were driving towards Noxus, yes?" Emilia asked softly, a frown forming on her face.
"Precisely." Swain grimaced.
"Worry not." Emilia said, her hand disappearing into her cloak for a brief moment. He lifted a small crystalline flask filled with crimson blood inside into the light. "It shall be dealt with in due time… Perhaps if you'd like to see them suffer you can turn your dogs loose on the woman early…"
"No, that would only incite conflict before I want it." Swain mused, shaking his head. "The thought is enticing, the wounds of betrayal… the thought of turning them against each other, it would cut the prince twice as deep as they cut the dragon girl, but her flames… they prove difficult to control. I have a less elegant plan to deal with them. It shall break them both and I look forward to the anguish it will bring them."
"Oh?" Leblanc said, a thin smile growing on her lips. "I look forward to it."
"In time." Swain mused softly as he stroked the raven slowly. "There is still much to prepare."
"Of course." Leblanc said softly, bowing her head. She slid backwards into the shadows and disappeared.
Swain closed his eyes and relished in the deviousness of his plan for a brief moment. The raven blinked, looking up at him. "I hope you are ready, prince… It won't be much longer till you have a far greater problem to contend with than simple lovers quarrels."