Author's Note:
Well, a lot has happened. My computer got a virus, so I had to crash it down and I lost my Microsoft Word programs, the 2010 edition, so I couldn't use them to help me write this. Sorry for the mistakes.
Now, this one is centered around the front between Demacia and Noxus, and will explain some of what is going on in this one and the next chapter. For those looking for what is happening in Ionia, that is coming up after this. I figured it would be best to do this first.
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.
"They're releasing the monster!"
"Men! To arms! We have to stop it's advance toward the gate!
"Archers; to your towers!
"Foot soldiers; form up in front of the gate! We will push it back!
"Have any of the scouts returned?"
"Humans are such noisy creatures..." She thought to herself as she was helped into her armor.
The human commander, a man by the name of Arnold, had assumed command of the fort after leading her and her escort there. He was a loud man, louder than others she had seen because of his size and build, but he was also strong and loyal, willing to put his life on the line at a moment's notice.
Him being at the front of the wall of shield bearers was all that kept the foot soldiers from turning and running; though it did nothing to stop them from shaking in their boots at the mention of the Noxian war monster that was coming at them.
"You do not have to do this." Said the man who had led her to the fort. "I can have the men barricade the gate while we evacuate." He reminded her.
The soldiers of the fort had made a large commotion when the two of them, or more specifically when he, arrived. At first, they had stared in awe, thinking they were seeing a ghost, and then they began rejoicing as though a long-lost brother had come home after years.
And yet... he was more surprised by their comments than their reactions.
Something was wrong, she knew it from his tense demeanor and resolved glare, but she did not know what it was that troubled him.
However, that was not their immediate concern. Right now, their concern, and focus, was on the war at hand and, more importantly, the threat she was about to face.
She shook her head, not stopping as she continued to put on the armor she had been provided. "These men are acting like children being picked on by a bully." She informed. "Someone has to put a stop to it, or nothing will change." "And running away is not the solution; we both know that."
That was what she wanted to tell him, but he already knew that. After what they had been through, they both knew that.
"Are you sure you do not want me to fight with you?" He asked her, even though he knew her answer.
She nodded her head. "Tell your people to not intervene. I do not want to have to pick between dodging this monster from the front and arrows from behind."
With that, he began to leave, but not before taking the sword from his belt and leaning it against the table.
She turned her head to him, and her fiery eyes expressed confusion for a moment until she smiled softly. "Why did you even accept that?" She asked, forgetting about the tension of the moment for just a moment.
He, however, did not. "It's my grandfather's sword. He was killed by the same foe you are about to face." He said with an emotionless tone.
Her eyes turned toward the sheathed blade, and then back to him. She waited until he turned to face her, and then shook her head. "You've seen me with a weapon." She reminded him before she adjusted the gauntlets on her hands.
"My kind are weapons."
Blood.
That was what was waiting for him, what he craved.
He wanted out.
He wanted to be free.
To kill.
To crush.
To... to...
... he wanted to remember.
The only why he could remember who he was, what he was, was to fight.
In fighting, he remembered.
In killing, he lived.
In battle... he had what others called fun.
Soon, he could have his fun, he would be alive as he fought and killed!
He knew, the people outside were talking, preparing to move him from his cage and into battle.
All he had to do was be patient for a little while longer...
And then... and then...
He would remember.
"Steady now men! All we have to do is let it out, and then run as far away as possible."
"But Sir, the last team was killed before it, I mean he, turned to fight the Demacians."
"Ah, that's why we've got the horses. He'll kill them before he kills our enemies, and we'll be back at camp enjoying a mug of ale with a steaming bowl of meat stew."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Now, you get ready to slap the horses' rump while I get... this... thing... out of the wagon."
The two soldiers began to do their own tasks as they continued to talk. The younger, less experienced one tending to the horses, two mares that were destined most likely for death either by the... thing inside the sturdy, wooden cage or by arrows from the enemy archers and the older soldier offering encouragement while he dragged over the giant axe the behemoth of a monster would use.
Now and again, the younger soldier would glance back toward the fort the army was trying to take. They had been at this for weeks, but they had not been focusing on taking their objective. At least not until now.
They had been making preparations, digging in outside the fort, securing traveling routes for supplies for themselves and finding the ones the Demacian army used, and waiting until this large crate, the cage as his superiors had called it, arrived along with an escort led by a female mage.
She did not give her name, who she worked for, and barely spoke, but she did present an order from Grand General Swain, sealed and signed by the man himself. The woman then left without another word, and as mysteriously as she had arrived.
The thing inside the cage, no matter what he had been told, was a monster.
He had been told that this was one of the great heroes of Noxus, the warrior who had led the assault that ended the siege at Noxus's doorstep and charged through the ranks of Demacian soldiers until he reached the end and, with his bare hands, strangled King Jarvan to death before he was killed.
What the soldier had seen come out of the cage was nothing like a man turned legend; it was a demon from the deepest pits of hell brought forth by magic of the darkest cults.
It had killed soldiers of both sides, took a great deal of manpower to bring down, and, even after the battle, further causalities were mounted as the monster tried to keep fighting until, finally, it began to tire out, maybe, and could be returned to its cage until next time.
It was true that the thing was powerful, cutting down the Demacians like they were training dummies made of straw, and causing great damage to the heavy, wooden door that protected it. The gate was in a constant state of repair, and it wouldn't last another assault.
This was the last time Sion, the Undead Juggernaut of Noxus, would be released for this siege, and then, when he falls, Noxian troops would flood into the fort and take it from the Demacian forces.
The younger soldier finished fixing the horses' ropes to the cage, ready to run as soon as they were slapped and the ropes would be swiftly yanked off, freeing the monster from its prison, and he turned to his superior. "I'm done sir." He said.
There was silence.
"Sir?" He asked as he took a step away from the cage and behind the horses. "A-are you there? ...sir?" He asked with a frightened, worried tone.
Still, there was only silence.
He drew his sword slowly, careful and quietly so it made as little noise as possible, and then began to climb onto the back of one of the horses.
From his new vantage point... his eyes widened at what he saw, and quickly smacked his horse's rump with his sword to get the both of them moving.
Not a second later, an axe as large as him flew through the air and hit his horse, killing it almost instantly and throwing him off.
He tumbled off his mount and onto the ground. As he tried to get up and make a run for it, a heavy boot stomped down on his back, breaking his pelvis, lower spine and paralyzing him from the waist down, and causing him to cry out in sheer pain before he was silenced by another boot stomping his head into the ground.
She had to push her way through the thralls of people as she made her way to the front gate, many of them near to fleeing as is and some telling her to go back to safety.
A stern glare from her made them back away.
When she arrived at the front gate, she had to break stride for only a few seconds as it opened up, a direct order from her companion, and she began walking once more.
The sounds behind her turned distant as her eyes locked on a large, green dot charging toward the fort. With her keen eyes, she could see the glint of steel, broken by bloodstains from countless use on and off the battlefield.
She heard the thing approaching roar, a terror cry demanding blood and slaughter, as it charged. It was no wonder they called it a living battering ram, or a human siege weapon.
She halted her stride when she, to her estimate, fifty yards from the fort.
The Noxian forces had to release their weapon far enough from the fort that it could be deployed, but also far enough from their camp to make sure it did not turn on them.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the monster charge toward her, and stood her ground, taking her fighting stance.
She was not a trained soldier, and so her form was that of an amateur.
She studied the monster as it closed the distance with inhuman speed for its size, analyzing the way it moved and flexed, which hand it wielded its weapon, and every detail she could gain from it.
Her companion had told her, as they traveled, that charging headfirst into battle was the best way to be killed. It infuriated her to no end to hear this, but, as he had demonstrated during short sparring matches, he always bested her, despite her strength.
She was stronger than him, yet he always overpowered her. She was faster than him, yet he always struck the first blow. She was larger than him, yet...
As the monster approached, she watched it raise its weapon above its head with its right hand and, when it was within range, brought the massive axe down with a roar.
And fire bubbled from her mouth as she stepped to the left. A blast of fire erupted from her mouth, blinding the monster and causing it to stumble as it could not stop running.
...he always offered her a hand up.
He had expected to hit her, to cut her down, but her step to avoid and her attack were in such quick succession that he could not react in time.
It was no surprise that the monster lost its footing as he cried out in surprise and fury, and, while he did not fall to the ground, he did tumbled to a stop, rolling once before using his left hand to steady himself on one knee.
He did not remember much of his life, but his training and experiences were from instinct and
When it looked up with its charred face, he saw the woman was running at him through blurry eyes and was too stunned to do anything other then take the spin kick to the left side of his head.
What rational part of his mind was left told him that her strength was not human and it felt that his skull had suffered a crack from the blow.
This woman was strong... which meant this was going to be fun.
He lunged himself forward as she landed, the blow appearing to have not even phased him, and pulled his left arm back to strike her.
As the blow came down, she punched his arm away with her right arm and hit him in his right side with a left jab, pushing enough of his weight on his right side to allow herself to crawl out.
He raised his right arm, axe in hand, to strike at her, but his aim was off when she kicked him in the chin, forcing his head up and making it unable for him to see her past his nose.
When his axe fell down, still attempting to strike her, he looked down in time to move his head enough to avoid her right jab, but he did feel the burning cut across his undead cheek. He leaned on his right side to let the momentum of her strike push her body forward, but he had to do so in a way that left him unable to counterattack.
He was backside, his right wrist turned with his axe still in the ground and his left hand being used to steady himself, and he was able to watch her fly through the air for a short time before landing and tumbling to her knees.
As he pushed himself up and pulled his axe from the ground, she turned to face him and returned to her fighting stance.
She panted as she watched it ready itself to continue fighting, and she noticed that instead of its wild, frenzied state from before... it was smiling.
Was this... thing enjoying fighting for its life?
She had only managed to avoid that axe blow by blocking its vision and turning on her side, saving her left arm in the process, and that was too close.
She was silently surprised that it was still moving as it was. It shouldn't have been able to turn its head with her earlier blow, and yet it had dodge her jab like it had expected it.
"I guess it's not as mindless as the soldiers said it was."
The two stared at one another for a time, each gauging the other with a cautious, calculating look. They were both ready for the battle, and both knew that the other was at least on par with the other.
One was smiling for the battle, silently overjoyed that he had finally found an opponent that could hold his own, or her own, against him; if only for a short time.
The other was flexing the fingers of her hands, knowing full well that this would be one of the toughest battles of her life, if not the toughest. She could only recall one battle, not too long ago even, when she knew that she would have to fight for her very life and right to live.
This time though, there was no one to fight with her.
... at least not with her in person, but she felt his eyes on her, watching the battle.
They did not attack one another right away, but then, as though something inside told them at the same time, their battle resumed. Only this time, there would not be a pause until one of them was dead.
He swung his axe in his right hand from right to left, forcing her to step back, and then raised his axe above his head and brought it down.
She lunged at him immediately after stepping back to avoid both attacks, attempting to strike with her both hands, but he used his left arm to block her attack.
He released his axe and hit her with his right hand in the left side of her front, causing her to grunt and lifting her off the ground a few inches and back a foot or two. He followed her back, gripping his axe in his left hand and turning his body to be able to do so.
She boiled with rage at being hit as she had been, feeling herself heat up, and prepared to spit another burst of fire at him as she landed on the ground. It took her a moment to regain her footing after having been lifted off the ground, and she backed up when she did.
She watched him as he kept his right arm in front of his body and his frame turned, putting one foot in front of the other as he followed her and using his right arm like a shield to protect him. She knew she could not launch another burst of fire at him, not like this, and so she punched forward with her left hand, aiming for his arm.
He stops in his movement when he feels her punch his arm, and attempts to grab her arm, to which he succeeds but she also grabs his arm; her fingers, more like claws, digging into the mass of undead flesh and muscle. He brings his axe down in his hand, shortening the distance from his hand and the blade, and uses it more like a club to hit her with the flat of the blade.
She steps forward, avoiding the blow, and launches her burst of fire into his face at point-blank range.
As he staggers back, his grip on her arm tightening, she begins a series of punches at his face.
During the blows, he brings his arm back, and, after the third blow, he swings at her; not knowing exactly where she is or what part of his weapon is closest to her.
He feels the blow connect, the back of his axe colliding with the right side of her head, and struggles to force her to the ground with his right arm gripping her left arm.
She is left dazed for a moment, allowing him to force her to her knees, but she recovers in time to strike him in his right knee, forcing him to use the shaft of his axe to keep himself from falling completely. She pulls her arm back again and manages to hit him again, only she was aiming for his weapon.
The hardwood shaft breaks under the combined force of his weight and her attack, and he is forced to use his left arm to keep himself from falling onto his side.
The both of them then drew their heads back, not knowing that the other had the same idea, and both their heads collide in a loud thud, both becoming dazed, letting go of each other, and recoiling.
She crawled away on her knees and her left hand, her head in her right hand as she felt warm blood, while he shook his head with his right hand on his head before turning to his now useless weapon.
He rises to his feet, his head remaining his hand, and rubs the charred and burnt skin from his face.
She begins to seethe with rage now, her breathing turning into flames as she begins to let her rage get the better of her. With her hand still on her head, she turns her burning eyes to her opponent, and then turns her body to him and roars as a change begins to take her.
Her armor begins to stretch and some of the straps break, her hands and feet become clawed and taloned, and scales grow out of her growing body. A thin but scaled armor webbing connects to part of her sides, forming partial wings, and her arms and legs grow as she shuffles to make room for her newly expanding body.
By the time he finishes clearing his vision and looks back at her, her appearance is that of a small dragon, a drake one could say, and fire builds in her mouth and flares out of her nostrils.
He does not react the way most would, but instead roars at her in return and stomps both of his feet onto the ground, firmly planting them, and holds his arms at his sides as if he expects her to jump into his arms.
She, now in her dragon form, crawls toward him at her previous running speed, and tackles him, this time lifting him from his feet, and causing him to grunt from the impact.
He lands, bounces really, on his back and manages to right himself into a sprinting crouch. He then raises his fists and charges at her as she charges, crawls, at him.
She claws at his chest, and he gives her a right hook. He grabs her by her extended throat, and she releases a gout of flame to force him to release her. She stands on her hind legs, becoming a foot taller than him and tries to claw at him with both of her claws, and he catches her right arm by the wrist and steps forward to grapple her around the waist while she claws at his back with her right claw.
He charges with forward with her in his arm, running toward the fort walls. She digs her taloned feet into the ground, trying to halt or slow his charge.
She manages to, only just, find a place where the ground is soft enough for her to dig in without her toes tearing off, but his charge is too strong to stop and he loses his grip on her, painfully so, as she hits the ground, his arm and hand nearly twisting her body around, and he is flung off her and crashes into the wall of the fort; shaking dust off of it when he hits it.
By this point, the pain is too great for her to stand and she begins to return to her human form, hugging her sides and groaning in pain.
As she arches her back against the pain, she notices her opponent, for the first time during their battle, is finally looking like he is hurting as well as he staggers to his feet.
Through her squinting eyes, she is able to see the glowing, red jewel on his belt shifting, going faint and glowing brightly as if there was something wrong with it; much different than the dim glow she had noticed throughout their battle.
Despite the damage and pain they were both in, he appeared to want to continue to battle as his green skin turns to a blood red. Heated breath begins to seethe from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes are lowered into a glare, and he straightens himself.
As he begins to march toward her, the jewel at his waist turns a solid dark red in color.
She breathes heavily as she watches him approach, and closes her eyes as she sees him coming closer... and takes a breath, her last breath, and holds it when she hears the footsteps stop.
"What is your name?"
She lets her breath out and opens her eyes. Above her, she sees her opponent, large, imposing, and blood red skin, stares down at her with hard, even eyes.
The look in his eyes... she had to remind herself that this was the same one, a monster she had been told, that only roared and slaughtered wave after wave of men on the battlefield.
But that look... there was something about it.
"What is your name, Demacian?" He asked her again.
She had to remind herself to breathe, and then she spoke in a pain voice. "Shyvana..." She says in between pants.
Her opponent did not move or say anything for a time, and then turned his head toward the fort. It was then that she noticed the sound of yelling and stomping of many, many armored feet; like when the soldiers were preparing to defend the fort.
He then looked back to her, meeting her eyes, and spoke. "I am Sion." He said plainly, and then began to march away, stepping over, rather than on, her.
She only laid there, unable to believe that she was still alive as she heard the footsteps fast approaching.
The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was the sound of her companion calling out her name.
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
"Soon... soon my end of our bargain will be complete, and then you will-"
"Talking to your outside friend again, I see? I do wonder when you will introduce the two of us."
"Ah, I was just about to send for a messenger. Have you anything to report?"
"There is a problem."
"Where are they moving this time-"
"A 'real' problem."
"What? Are they suspicious? Did they find out?"
"No, they did not find out; we were found out."
"Explain."
"Come to the Garden. The Matron has forbidden me from speaking."
"... Very well."
Yep. Stuff's going on. Hope everyone enjoyed.
