A/N- Well bloody finally, eh? First of all whoops, I hope this extra long chapter makes up for everything. The Beta Reader and I have been #Busy ;.;Hopefully the next chapter won't take a year and a half to finish lol. Don't become adults it's a fucking trap. Anyways, I would love to thank the ever lovely and dweeb WG Karibu for the beta reading. He's my main boo and keeps this story in line. Best Waifu. And a massive thank you to all of you who are still reading this and who are hella supportive. I hope I never let you all down. Thank you thank you thank you. Now enjoy and Happy New Years kiddos!
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(1 Week Until the Attack on Piltover)
{The Hunna-Sycamore Tree}
The medals adorning her chest gleamed with pride. Her heart hammered in her throat as she stepped before the council of generals and commanders. Chocolate brown eyes swivelled to observe the faces of the disciplinary council seated on platforms raised from the marble floor. She tilted her chin, placing her shoulders back as she gathered a steely reserve.
She was Abigail Preston; Daughter of Reagan and Tarra Preston, Sister of Alexander Preston, Captain of Piltover's very own fifty-first unit. She was a leader, a trainer, a drill instructor.
And now she is a soon to be mother.
She would face the council with the intensity and fierceness she mustered since the day she was born. She had made new recruits older than herself shiver in fear with simple commands or tough excruciating drills. She was the pride of her commanders, the rock to her unit and the most ruthless discipliner.
"Captain Preston," A gruff voice broke through the silence of the wood panelled room. Commander General Grayer's dark green eyes focused on the young woman before him. His strong tanned hand ran through his well-groomed fiery beard. His square jaw was set in concentration as he brought the documents to his tired eyes. He removed his commander's cap from his short red and grey hair. "You have a solid history amongst our ranks. I see why the recruiters believed you would fit best with the fifty-first. You've done your unit and your city-state proud, Captain." His low voice began. "And with this history of enforcing rules and orders, you do understand the consequences of fraternization of subordinates under your order?"
"Stripped of my title, my pension and my position, sir." She admitted steadily, keeping her intense chocolate orbs on the Commander General. "I'll also be charged with fraternization and offence to the state, where I can be punished with fifteen lashes and ten weeks in military imprisonment, sir."
Grayer gave a small smirk as he placed the documentation down, smoothing out the parchments. He met the gaze of the young captain. "When are you due?" He spoke casually.
"November, sir." She replied.
"And the father obviously understands the responsibility the two of you will share, correct?" He rose a fiery eyebrow questioningly at the young woman.
Abbie nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And he too, understands the consequences and serious charges you face currently?"
"Yes, sir. We hold the responsibility and I'll take the consequences."
A gentle smile graced the Commander General's face. "I was like you once, Captain Preston. I was young and in love. I wanted to start a life with her; keep her safe, have a family. I understand that having a family is very important to you, and it was a damn shame you had lost yours at such a young age. I too was an orphan and as orphans, we crave families like it was a potent, addictive drug. As a military, we knew that the generation would soon grow up and begin to have families of their own. We knew that there would be days like today where we would have to convene and decide upon a future such as your own, Captain Preston." He explained. "However, we need to keep to the rules, as you may understand. And just as we need to keep to them, we must enforce and punish those who break them."
"Of course, sir. I have made the willing decision to break said rules, so I'll take whatever punishment that will be willed upon me. By the mother of the sea and the father of land, I stand before my judgement with the salt in my blood and the iron that will be clapped around my wrists." Her knuckles balled at her sides as she clenched her hands into fists. The council murmured to each other, some nodding others frowning deeply. The commander General cleared his throat gathering the attention of his subordinates.
"Captain Preston, you have served with extraordinary obedience and strength. The council admires your hard work and dedication to Piltover and her people. Thus we deem your punishment as such." He took a moment to gather a large breath. "Abigail Preston, all charges of fraternization and offence to the state have been dropped. You must give up your position as Captain of the fifty-first and asked to leave Piltover Company with an honourable discharge. "
"An honourable discharge allows you to keep the pension you have gained as well as any earnings. Your title will also be kept with you. We as the disciplinary council agree that you have put your life on the line countless times to ensure the citizens of Piltover could live peacefully, thus you deserve a life outside of the military and to start your life as one of the civilians you had helped to protect. However, you will be charged to ten lashes and considering your state of pregnancy we will award this punishment to the father, Sergeant Elric Sampson. As you said, Captain Preston, the two of you were willing to face the responsibility. Sergeant Sampson after receiving his lashes will then be promoted to Captain of the fifty-first, to replace you. You have until the end of the day to pack and leave Barracks and begin your life as a civilian. Good luck with your future and with your child, may they be as healthy and as strong as their mother. You are now dismissed. "
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{WILDES-Bare}
(5 Days until the attack on Piltover)
She wakes up to the smells of fresh paint, mint, and bacon grease. She raises her head from her resting place, giving a sly smirk as she decides to nuzzle in closer to the comfort.
Dakota stirs in her sleep. Her arms tighten around the gently chuckling Illya, her nose flaring as the scent of breakfast food brings her to the realm of consciousness. Illya couldn't help herself as she began to laugh at Dakota's rumbling hungry stomach. Sleepily, the raven-haired girl cracked open an eye to the Noxian, trying her damnedest to suppress the grin growing on her lips.
"We fell asleep on the couch," Dakota mumbled matter-of-factly, turning over to better face the lilac-haired girl. Her toned arms circled Illya tightly, pulling her in closer and pressing a peck to the girl's forehead.
"It seems we have," Illya replied, nuzzling her nose into Dakota's knit grey shirt. "You were very determined to get that damned chandelier fixed. Eventually, you had enough, scooped me up and demanded that we were to go to bed; if I do recall." She chuckled. "You were too tired to take the stairs so you opted out for the tea room chesterfield."
"It's comfy." The raven-haired girl admitted. "However, my shoulders would disagree." She groaned, rolling her back muscles and stretching out her legs. Small pops and cracks could be heard as she resettled herself. "Seems someone is making breakfast, shall we go see who this mystery chef is?" She yawned.
Illya smirked at the girl's heavy Piltovian accent. It was a rare treat that curled into her ears and instantly soothed Illya. She had only heard it a few times so far and she couldn't get enough of it. She looked up at the teen, letting her fingers trail up to press against Dakota's jawline. Her smirk grew as her thumb trailed over a line of paint smattered on her cheek.
All of them had been working hard on the renovations of the manor house. After all the deep cleaning, Elric and Dakota set to work on repairing and repainting the walls. With a few helping hands from Alex, Matais, Vi and even the Sheriff herself, the work got done, leaving the minor electrical and floor repairs. Yesterday had been a hard-pressed day to finish the remainder of the work so that new furniture could be placed. Dakota had worked tirelessly, finishing every repair on her to-do list.
"Mmm, I have a better idea." Illya purred, placing her hands on the soldier's shoulders. She began to squeeze the muscles, rolling the tips of her digits along the sore ligaments. She craned her neck, using her left hand to cup Dakota's cheek as she pressed their lips together. What turned into a relaxed, lazy morning kiss turned into something heated as Dakota groaned. She rolled over Illya, hovering over the Noxian, cupping Illya's outer thigh and pushing it against her own hip.
Illya smiled into the change of mood, letting her fingers grasp at her shirt. How in the world she got this lucky, she had no idea. But she knew that this had to be one of the best and easiest missions she had ever been a part of. Dakota loved her like any love drunk fool and all Illya had to do was play every string to her heart. She just had to lay back and let Dakota take the reins, let her guide the relationship to what she wanted. The Noxian girl was a physical person in reality. She enjoyed being held, being touched, being kissed. To her, this was a win-win situation.
Dakota got to love and Illya got to be loved.
"Oy, lover girls!" Alex crooned as he hopped on top of Dakota's back. A vicious curse ripped from the soldier's throat as she was pressed under his weight, trying desperately to keep it off Illya.
"Alex, fuck right off!" She strained through a snarl. "You're heavy as fuck!"
"Aww, now that's just rude, ice queen. Ya gravely hurt my feelings." He feigned, going absolutely limp. Dakota hissed out angrily at his dead weight. Illya chuckled, pressing a small peck on the girl's cheek and jaw.
"He can stay if he wants. I don't mind him, I only want you." She whispered to the straining soldier. She gave a seductive wink. "I mean he'll have a good view." She called out.
"Ugh, maybe with you sweetheart, I'd love to watch, but Dakota?! Gods no. That would be disgusting." He pushed off the soldier's back, much to her relief.
"I'm generally confused as to how I'm supposed to feel about that," Dakota admitted with a screwed expression. She gently pecked Illya on the forehead for the second time that morning before she stood up from the couch. She stretched out her arms above her head, giving another yawn. Alex checked her hip playfully, almost pushing the stretching girl over. "Sod off you tree like bastard." She quipped with a snicker while shoving her palms into his abdomen.
"Come get breakfast." He chuckled. "Elric decided he'd get up at the wee hours of the morning to collect some ingredients. He even invited Cait and Vi over to enjoy 'a celebratory breakfast'." He rolled his eyes.
"Don't be a twit. He's happy to have this done. Abbie and him can finally start a life together." Dakota extended a hand to Illya, helping her girlfriend up to her feet.
"Thanks, darling." The Noxian quipped, kissing the soldier's hand and lacing their fingers together. "You should be happy, Alex. The two of you will have a niece or nephew to get in trouble with."
"LAH LAH LAAAAAA, can't hear you!" Alex called out, cupping his hands over his ears. "I really don't want to be reminded that her brother got …..ugh. I can't even look at them. I mean I knew they were getting it on, but I don't need to have a constant reminder." Alex shivered involuntarily as he walked beside the two girls, who padded toward the kitchen.
Illya pressed herself into Dakota's side, musing her soldier's rueful morning hair. She let her fingers drift into the thick locks, pushing them aside and away from her eyes. Dakota chuckled lowly as she squeezed their hands in her grip. They entered the kitchen area.
Alex pushed past them, meandering his way over to the massive kitchen counter. Abbie was next to enter the kitchen as she rubbed her eyes, letting out a voracious yawn. Elric turned from the stove to greet her. He wrapped his large arms around her, tipping his chin up to meet her lips in a quick peck. He grabbed at a mug resting on the counter space and poured a decent amount of what smelled like coffee into the cup. He offered the morning delight to her, a wide beaming smile of pride gracing his lips.
Before Abbie's hand could enclose around the warm mug, Alex swooped in, stealing the cup from Elric's grip and giving it a swift slurp. He gave a disgusted face, before handing it to his sister. "Ugh gods, I forgot you like it as black as your soul." He sniggered. He received a hard thwack to the back of his head, making him yelp out and instantly b-line straight for the small dining table at the far end of the kitchen. Matais rolled his eyes at the young man's antics. He gave a loud unapproving slurp of his orange juice, causing a boyish giggle to erupt from Alex's throat. "Don't look at me like that you judgy asshole." He grinned with a charming wink.
It was then that Illya sensed the stillness beside her. Her brow furrowed as she inspected Dakota's features. The soldier's eyes seemed to glass over as they followed mere ghosts of her memories. Sweat beaded on her forehead and Illya felt her grip stiffen tightly. She watched as a faint shiver crawled up Dakota's spine and shoulders. Her hands began to shake as the memory began to tighten her breath in her chest.
"Darling," Illya's voice snapped gently. "Stay with me. Don't go away again."
This had been happening a lot more frequently since they had been in the manor house. Dakota would get lost in thought, her mind drifting off at times to when she was younger. Usually, they were happy memories; those of her being a young child, being loved by her family.
And then like a dark storm, her mind drifted off to the crash, to the lives she had taken, to the war-torn battlefield. And just like a swirling snake, it would grip her throat as panic would take over her body; a fight or flight instinct breaking through her mind. She would pause, her body going stiff as a board as she tried to wrangle those dark thoughts. Elric had shown great worry, as he would help bring her out of the state by trying to bring her into the present.
But Elric wasn't always with her.
Elric wasn't there when Dakota slept restlessly.
Her dreams would be plagued with shadowing pasts and she would wake to a start, sweat dripping down her spine. Illya had pretended to be asleep as she had watched the soldier run her fingers through her hair and quietly go through her breathing exercises. She would watch as she would slowly get out of her childhood bed, pushing the sheets away from her body. She'd quietly pace the room, her fingers drifting over the baby blue paint on the walls, the curves of the multicoloured wooden letters forming the Piltovian alphabet, the fur of a very dusty and ratty teddy bear seated on a nearby bureau. She'd watch Dakota's shoulders rise and fall as she breathed deeply to control her mind. With a quick nod, she'd turn on her heels with determination, wrap an arm around Illya's waist and fall to a dreamless sleep.
It intrigued the Noxian. She had seen this sort of thing among soldiers, but they were usually seen as weak minded. They would be shamed. They would be deemed useless. They would be told to move on or die. Noxus didn't take weaknesses well.
Noxus was only strength.
Even now she rolls her eyes at the notion. Everyone had weaknesses, however, what determined them strong was how they could use their weaknesses to their advantages and overcome them. That was the true power of strength that her father's Noxus was blind to.
It wasn't necessarily a problem that often occurred. The soldier had explained it was much worse in her younger years, especially after the crash and after the battle on the frontlines. Dakota had learned to take the brunt of it. She had learned to keep it at bay, to control it when it started to writhe under her skin. She was learning to overcome the slightest obstacles when they arrived, but sometimes there were very tough obstacles and the Sampson manor was the cause of many of them.
"Darling," Illya repeated, running her fingers along the toned muscle of Dakota's arm.
She watched as icy eyes narrowed, realization hitting the soldier. Dakota pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a large breath, counting slowly under her breath once she regained control of her mind. She looked to the Noxian with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks. "Sorry."
"It's ok." Illya murmured before going to her tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
"Ugh, could you not make out in the middle of the doorway," Alex complained, his mouth full of the toast he had snatched from the counter. All eyes swivelled to the young couple. Elric instantly sensed the small inner battle Dakota had just crawled out of and gave a small reassuring smile. A smile that meant "I know, I'm here." Dakota was the first to walk, pulling Illya along as she came before her brother who gave her a one-armed hug.
"Morning." He greeted, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "How'd you sleep?" He asked, pulling away to turn to the spitting skillet on the gas stove.
Dakota leaned her elbows on top of the light gray quartz countertop. "Well you see, I had finished the wiring to that stupid chandelier you had me fix. And being tired as I was, I fell asleep on mum's cherished chesterfield."
Elric gave a loud snort, a pleased smirk gracing his lips. Abbie leaned her backside against the kitchen basin beside Elric and hid her grin with her coffee mug. "If only she was alive to catch you doing that. She'd have Rose chase you around the house and tear a strip from your hide."
Dakota gave a cocksure smirk. "She wouldn't have been able to catch me."
"No, but mum would find you eventually." Elric teased, pointing his spatula at his younger sister. "Now get your butts to the table. Our guests should be arriving soon." He tutted. "Orange juice or caffeine?" He questioned to the two teenage girls as they trudged to the small glass dining table.
"Caffeine." Illya and Dakota both groaned. Dakota sat beside Alex, playfully elbowing his ribs. His mud brown eyes twinkled with mischief instantly. He wrapped a tawny arm around her neck pulling her in, and pressing his knuckles firmly into her scalp. Dakota flailed her arms, trying to break free of the hold.
"Seriously?" She barked incredulously, digging her short nails into his arms. Alex gave a short yelp, releasing the girl instantly.
"By the void, that seriously hurt." He grunted, inspecting the marks on his arms.
"Then you should be able to think better next time you think it wise to nugey me like that again." She growled threateningly.
"Alright, that's enough!" Abbie snapped, placing mugs of tea in front of Dakota and Illya. "The two of you are going to make me hurl if you keep up with the banter." She placed her palms on the flat of the countertop as she glared at the two younger members of the fifty-first. Elric reassuringly came behind her, placing his forehead on her shoulder and rubbing small soothing circles along the small of her back.
"Hey now, don't blame your morning sickness on us. That's all on blond, tall and handsome behind ya." Alex muttered sourly.
"I said enough!" Abbie snarled in finality.
"Jeeze didn't mean to wake the hibernating bear." Alex raised his hands up in defence.
"Alex." The redhead warned through gritted teeth. "I'm really not in the mood."
Dakota looked between the two fuming siblings. She caught the eyes of her brother, raising a raven black brow to him in question. He gave a long sigh, and murmured something sweetly into Abbie's ear, making her lips pull into a wide smile.
"You better keep to that." The redheaded ex-captain teased, turning to the blond young man and kissing his forehead.
"I always do, love." He chuckled. "Now get your arse over to the table. Breakfast is almost ready." He couldn't help the giddy smile from breaking his lips. Abbie obliged taking the seat next to Matais.
The sound of the front entrance caught everyone's ears before the sound of padding feet came from the hallway. Vi popped in followed by Caitlyn, the two officers grinning widely at the group of young adults. Vi slid her leather jacket off of her strong shoulders. "It was just startin' to rain out there." Vi beamed. "It's startin to look a lot like spring, kiddos." She chuckled as she sat in the empty seat next to Illya. She leaned over and extended her arm to ruffle Dakota's bed head.
Dakota replied to the muse with a slight chuckle in her voice. "Morning, Vi." She beamed at the pink haired enforcer.
"Ya got paint on yer cheek, kid," Vi added, before pulling her chair in, settling herself and sighing in content.
Self consciously, Dakota rubbed at her cheek, a frown etched on her thin lips.
Caitlyn walked over to Elric, giving him a quick hug and placing a tray wrapped in tin foil on the countertop. "I brought my signature waffles." She explained.
"Thank you, Cait." Elric winked to the sheriff. "Now the crew won't have to suffer from my terrible cooking. At least they can look up to your waffles." He joked. "I have a Piltovian blend, brewed just for you."
The sheriff gave a very pleased smirk as she rose to her tiptoes to place a grateful kiss on his cheeks. Elric's smile beamed as bright as the sun. He wiggled over to the breakfast table balancing many plates along his arms.
"Alright, we have quite the assortment of refreshments." He explained. "Please help yourselves, I don't want anyone at this table to leave without a full stomach."
"Yeah, yeah, c'mon Elric. I've been drooling over those ham slices since you started frying 'em." Alex spouted impatiently.
Abbie glared at the young man. Alex rolled his eyes at his older sister. Dakota glanced around the table to Matais, who raised his eyebrow at the teenage girl. Caitlyn, with a mug in hand, quickly got to her seat next to Vi, placing a chaste kiss on her right cheek before taking a long drag of her hot beverage.
Illya watched as the group settled themselves before looking up to their new leader as he cleared his throat.
Elric gave a warm laugh, clasping his hands on the back of Abbie's chair. She looked up at him with glowing pride and admiration. He sighed happily, squeezing Abbie's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm glad we could all get together and celebrate the beginning of our new lives. This manor house has always been a home that would forever be out of reach to me." He explained, his eyes going to each member surrounding the table. His sapphire hues fell on Dakota, locking on for a moment before continuing on. "And now I get to share it with some of the most important people in my life. Hopefully soon, with Caitlyn, our glorious commanding officer," He grinned. "We can make Sampson manor into the Barracks of the fifty-first. We should be hearing back from the council of commanders within a week's time, as well as receiving a few new recruits."
Alex barked out a laugh incredulously. "They're finally giving us new meat?"
Elric nodded. "The council of Commanders is working on the testing phase of recruitment and pushing to find fits for the Unit. Hopefully, we'll have some candidates that we can weed through to find a few new members."
"I can finally retire." Matais chuckled into his glass of Orange Juice.
Alex turned to the mage, frowning deeply. "Fuck that retire the day you can't walk anymore, just like me. Just like Dakota." He pointed to the raven-haired girl, who was giggling with the Noxian who was wrapped around her and pressing pecks along the soldier's cheek. Alex screwed his face in disgust and rolled his eyes before going on. "We're all stuck here because there's no one else good enough to take our place. So don't go blabbering on about retirement. What are ya, forty years old?"
Matais gave a calming smile to the red-headed young man. "Fine. Who else would look out for you on the field? You wouldn't survive without me."
"Truer words have never been spoken!" Alex grinned wildly through the admittance. "See, I knew you'd come to your senses. Fighting partners until we're too old to move and our eyes are too blind to see." He crooned loudly, patting Matais's shoulder roughly.
"To a spring of change and new beginnings." Elric rose his mug to the centre of the table. Glasses and mugs rose to the toast, pressing into each other. "Now let's dig in. We got a long day of drills, kids!" He teased, as he took his seat in between Abbie and Caitlyn.
Alex groaned. "C'mon, Elric. We've been working our asses off on this house. Let's take a day off, head to the pubs and celebrate further."
Elric chuckled as he passed a plate of fresh cut fruit along the table. "As fun as that sounds, we can't. I've got some big shoes to fill as a Captain." He gave a charming wink to Abbie, who snorted, pushing her palm into his face and shoving him away with a laugh.
"Yes you do, and he has been lax in making sure you lazy sacks are in shape. It's time you guys get back to work and improve on those fighting skills." She explained, placing a pile of scrambled eggs on her plate and passing them off to Matais, who bowed his head in thanks.
The sheriff nodded in agreement, passing the plate of ham to an excited Vi. "Yes, and we may have orders for another mission for next week. Seems a few scouts have gathered up some interesting information that will aid us in finding out what the Zaunites are planning. Viktor's lab experiments have put the statesmen on edge. Biomechanically engineered hulks are quite the thing to be feared, and if they plan on unleashing them, we need to know their weaknesses before they strike when we're caught flat footing ." Caitlyn explained. "The commander and mayor have many things for us to do, so we need to be ready."
Elric nodded. "And we will. I'll have us ready." He promised.
As breakfast continued on with usual banter, Illya hid her smirk behind her mug, amicably taking part in conversation every now and then as she hid her excitement. She wondered if the sheriff knew how close to danger Piltover actually was. She wondered if, the fifty-first would be ready for what was coming for them. She wondered if Caitlyn would figure out when the attack was coming, only to find it too late.
It brought a delighted shiver up her spine.
Dakota, observant as always, noticed this and rose an eyebrow to the Noxian girl. Illya looked around the table, seeing that everyone's attention is scattered to everywhere but her. She reached a hand under the table slowly. Her fingers walked over to Dakota's thigh, dragging her nails along the material of her light gray canvas trousers. Her other hand reached for the waffles across the table, grabbing at a perfect square and thanking Caitlyn.
Her hand slowly ascended to the meeting place of her thighs.
She watched Dakota's nostrils flare and cheeks pinken instantly.
Illya chuckled just low enough for the soldier to hear before she pulled her hand away, gently clapping her knee before digging into her breakfast.
It was always satisfying to be the one who pulled the rug out from everybody's feet.
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(2 days until the attack on Piltover)
(Son Lux ft Lorde - Easy)
The tumbler rattled as his wrist continued in circular movements. The amber liquid mingled with the clinking of the ice cubes. It licked up the side of the handcrafted glass, dribbling a splash that clung to the calloused tips of his fingers as they gripped tighter into the tumbler. His fiery brow furrowed in concentration as his dark green eyes surveyed the hurried ink scratched into the parchment.
This was the beginning.
Every soldier always wonders when war will finally decide to bring out it's mangled and heaving head to face the world. It was a creature that gripped every living being with sharp elongated claws. War was always waiting with a malicious smile and the balance of humanity curled in the palms of its talons.
Every General wonders when they would be faced against the monstrosity. They prepare all their lives, giving the burden to their successors, continuing the line of being the first moving cog of the machine like beast.
It is a bittersweet moment. A moment where purpose and dread curl around tightly in his gut. He had been waiting. He had been preparing.
But he never expected it to begin like this.
"Cheeky." He muttered as he pressed the tumbler to his lips, gently tipping it so that the brandy swelled into his cheeks in a small mouthful. It was a Bilgewatian creation that consisted of strong notes of berries and spice. It gave him slight comfort as he reread the message.
Tink tintink
The brandy continued to swirl with each passing short sentence. It created a steady calming rhythm as he gathered his racing strategic thoughts. With something akin to the feeling of giddiness, he wondered who he'd contact first to inform of the coming threat.
And in that moment he knew.
It was time to be a smidge dramatic.
He sighed regretfully as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He placed his tumbler down on his cherry desk before straightening his tie. He shrugged on his light gray uniform jacket; his decorative medals clanking against each other with the movement. He pushed the buttons through their respective holes before giving the bottom of the jacket a quick tug. He swiped his Commander's cap off of his desk and placed it gently over his red and gray hair.
The marble corridors of city hall resonated the sounds of his boots. Politicians cleared a path for him as to not obstruct the urgency of his movement. They watched in awe as he easily pushed the great oaken doors of senate house wide open.
Whatever heated debates occurred before commander Grayer literally burst through the door, were now silenced entirely. The mayor almost looked relieved to be rid of their bickering voices.
"Commander General Grayer? What brings you here?" The Mayor inquires curiously. Small concerned murmurs go around the wooden room. Statesmen stroked their beards as they contemplated the otherwise rude entrance of the commander general.
"Noxus has declared war." He states, his voice reverberating off of the Senate walls. "They invaded Ionia. They've laid wreck and ruin all along their countryside. The council is requesting for support and for us to deploy as a reinforcement."
The statesmen roar in incredulity.
What do you mean they invaded? The Noxians wouldn't dare! Where is the proof? The enlightened one requests our aid? We cannot send our forces for foreign defence!They are our allies!
"Enough!" the Mayor bellows. "I have had enough of your incessant bickering! It is a constant in this senate-house. We argue all day and do nothing to resolve our issues." He rises from his bench seat and glares up toward the commander general. "Are these official request given by the enlightened one herself?"
Grayer began to descend the creaking wooden steps. His heavy boots thundered against the panels as he made his way to the mayor. He extended his arm, handing the parchment over. He turned on his heels and cleared his throat.
"Our allies are calling for our Noxians have been gearing to claim Ionia after their last attempt. Swain has been itching to redeem his people after their failure. They are a decades-long prepared force, causing destruction and turmoil for the civilians of a peaceful nation." He paused momentarily to allow the severity of the situation to sink in. "Now I can tell the question in your minds right now is, what does this have to do with us?"
There was a moment of the statesmen looking at one another, their gazes wary. The mayor kept focus on the scrawled message. The official seal of the enlightened one decorated just under his fingertips.
"It is not just the Ionians calling upon their allies." The mayor sighed.
Grayer nodded gravely. "Gentlemen, ladies, great mayor. Before us stands a catalyst for a destructive war." The commander general pointed toward the Piltovian coat of arms. "We are a different city from the last rune wars. We are not a small player within Valoran. We hold just as much power as those bloodthirsty warmongers! You have toiled your days ensuring that you keep a balance of peace and harmony within our city. In order to keep that balance, allow me to take half of my forces to quash the Noxian and Zaunite fueled invasion before it becomes a much larger scale world domination attempt. The Demacians are not as close as we are to the Ionians. Once the Noxians begin their assault we should have the arrival of the Demacians moments after. All we need is our foot soldiers and the engineering front to help the Ionians fortify the defences of their capital city. We can aid with the intake of refugees. This can all be handled with our help. All we need is your approval, and then this pitiful grab for something untouchable can be swatted away with ease and with the least amount of casualties possible."
A statesman rose from his seating, his gruff features pushed in a concerned expression. "And you are certain that we are the answer? You are certain that our forces can handle this commitment? Once we choose sides we are no longer allies with the other."
A chorus of hear hears rang through the room.
"Why would we be allies with a nation that broke the runic treaty. We are only providing aid to an invaded island. We are but the spray that deters the roaches of war, we are only the temporary solution until the exterminators finally arrive. We must help end these pests and restore peace, not only for Piltover, but for Valoran." Grayer retorted. "Put it this way, they broke our allyship the second they began to slaughter innocents on a land that they have no right to."
"And what of our own protection? What if they counterattack? If the Noxians are allied with the Zaunites shouldn't we present a strong force of defence of our city?"
"Sir, we have as many as 10 000 trained soldiers stationed and on standby waiting for our commands. We have a force of over 2000 trained police officers. Not to mention the militia forces we could easily muster. We may have a small army compared to the Demacians and Noxians, but we are prepared. I can easily take half of our standby forces and we could still make a difference. That is all I need." Grayer than turned to the mayor. "If it quells your worry, I will send my scouts to the Zaunite border and get them to keep careful watch of that decrepit city-state. Any sense of invasion like feelings and they will report it to us."
The mayor nodded carefully, his mind whirring with the facts and the pitch given by the commander general. "Fine. We'll put it to a vote. All of those in favour to aiding the Ionian front say aye."
A solid roar of aye circled around the room.
The mayor nodded. "To those not in favour say nae."
A small grouping of nae was heard.
"Majority rules. You will receive the funds necessary to mobilize our forces. You will get no more or less than 5 000 troops. I am with our statesmen. I believe that this could easily open up a chance for Zaun to bring the war machine to us. I would like to be prepared for the possibility at least."
"Of course. It is all that I need. Piltover Company will bring you all pride."
***********************************************************/)(\**************************************
(Ivan Torrent- One of Us Ft. Julie Elven)
(19 Hours until the attack on Piltover)
Winter wind has always been a vicious creature. It tears through fabric and material as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter. It sends your body into a state that at times can be similar to fear. You feel the shivers, the goosebumps, the anxiety of survival the same way as you feel the creeping concerns of a predator hunting you down in the darkness. It lingers against your skin, leaving your body in trembling states.
But a dying winter's sea breeze was much more vicious and much more intense.
Illya Swain, like many others, felt the cold bite through to her bones. A small shiver crawled up her spine causing the goosebumps on her arms to raise tenfold. She grit her teeth against the howling wind. It seemed that even though spring was on the horizon, winter was giving one last final war cry before falling to its knees in natural defeat.
She focused on her mind, taking a large breath as she felt the runic energy flow through her veins.
It filled her with strength as she stepped away from the city outskirts of Piltover and Zaun. The greenish smog-filled streets broke away to the coastline of heavily polluted water and shabby fishing shacks. Before her, Viktor's camp rested along the rocky shoreline, looking directly across toward the distant City of Progress and the even more distant Bilgewater. Tenting flapped against itself as the wind howled even more viciously than before.
Her arms glowed with runic scrawls; an ancient language forgotten by many and remembered by few. Illya swain was one of the many who neither cared nor wondered what the pictograms of swirling circles and harsh lines meant as they burned through her skin. All she knew was that they kept her warm and gave her the strength to demolish any who stood in her way.
And that the voices of spirits circled her inner mind like ravenous wolves. They screamed and hissed as she opened herself up to the runic energy. She had no idea who the voices were or what their affiliations belonged to, but she usually quieted them with internal snarling and threats of keeping them locked away to never roam the planes of existence again.
Those threats usually kept the voices at bay.
Except for one.
Traitor, it wheezed, almost sounding as if the very voice breathed at her earlobe. A ghastly shiver crawled up her spinal column.
It wasn't from the cold.
"Enough." She barked out in finality. Her fists clenched tightly into white-knuckled frustration as she carefully took steps along the slippery algae covered rocks. "I will push you away and into the very dark corners of my mind." She threatened to the frozen air. "Trust me you won't like it in there." She growled.
Traitor, it breathed again. Daughter of a fraud. Heir to a throne of a failed society. Apprentice of a liar. Death will come swiftly for you, girl. She sings for you, and her beast is salivating at the taste of your blood.
"Oh shut it. You're becoming quite annoying." She tisked. "I mean you're quite right, but I'm not one to constantly hear about my flaws." She quipped with a harsh chuckle. Her shoulders rolled underneath her sheer cloak, letting the winter and sea wind flow through the thin material. "Now be quiet or I'll seal you tight."
You can never silence the truth, girl. It growled lowly. A smirk grew on her full lips, something almost predatory as she listened to the voice. It was almost an ethereal clouded sound with harsh undertones of a dusk world. The accent was almost unrecognizable.
Almost.
"So you were Noxian." She stated flatly, crossing the shoreline to the first row of tents.
Not Noxian. It hissed angrily. I am not anything like you.
She rose an eyebrow at the voice. "However, you speak my language and you sound very Noxian. What are you?" She asked as curiosity struck her.
I was human. It whispered. Your precious Noxus was nothing when my people first settled there. Your Noxus was nothing like the basilicas or parapets of my people. We were the pillars of your failed livelihoods. We were the before. YOU are the after.
"Ah, so you were the Origins." She deduced. "Your people founded what I call home."
And what do you call home? The voice was no longer a hiss of anger, but now a perverted intrigue.
"Noxus, obviously." Illya snorted. "Are you trying to trick me, voice?" She grinned widely.
Liar. That is not your home. You are not Noxian, girl. At least not your Noxian. She could hear the voice turn into something smug.
"And that is the point of this entire thing. So that I can raise a better Noxus. A better world. A total annihilation of weak leaders putting down strong people." She replied. "If you have strength, prove it by living without the need of leaders dictating every step and breath you make."
The creatures of Viktor watched her as she moved among the tenting like a wisp of smoke. One of them watched sorrowfully as she walked by, its black eyes following her movement. Its pale skin shimmered into the half moonlight. "Illya Swain." It groaned through clicking gargles. It reached out to grab her as she sauntered away.
Illya ignored the undead augmented soldier and continued forward to her destination.
Failure. The voice hissed angrily.
"Excuse me, I am not a failure." She said in mock hurt, pressing her hand to her heart in mock horror. "That's at least what I'm pushing to what people will perceive of me."
No, not you foolish girl. The voice snarled. Me. I have failed my people. My people have become YOU and that is the greatest deplorable action of my existence.
"Ouch, a little too self-hating don't you think?" She jeered to the voice.
Silence you traitorous swine. You have no idea the amount of distaste you cause me you naive, brat. The voice scathed harshly. You would rather watch the earth fall apart rather than gluing it back together. YOU WANT TO FIX, BUT YOU WILL RUIN THE VERY GROUNDS YOU WANT TO CALL HOME.
"Alright, that is enough." She commanded sharply. Her emerald eyes shone with sharp green energy.
You are making a big mistake. It whispered.
"Enough." She barked letting runic energy push through her body in a violent wave, causing her mind to burn in pain. With an irritated grunt, she forced more power making the head splitting headache become even more painful. The voices in her mind all but disappeared, lifting the feeling of cloudiness from her hearing.
"That's better." She chuckled to herself as she brushed her front. She gave a wholesome sigh before pushing through the final tenting and into the quarters of the mechanist. He was bent over a pile of mismatched cogs. He paid no mind toward the Noxian. "Piltover is preparing for battle on Ionian lands." She said in welcome, throwing a Cheshire grin to the evolutionist.
"They are?" He asked perplexed, his amber lumens coldly staring at the sprockets before him.
"Yes. In fact, as we speak they are ushering their forces on to boats to deploy them tonight on Ionian territory. We have a perfect opening lining up for us." She strutted over to a pine table containing other metal bits. She picked up the pieces and began moving the joints back and forth. The metal parts squealed out in protest to the movements. "You should oil these."
Viktor's facial expression remained as blank as the cold metal plating covering it.
Illya smirked in tiny victory.
Before anything could be said in reply by both parties, someone was shoved roughly into the planks of wood acting as the flooring for the main tent. Two of Viktor's creatures pushed through the tenting, clicking and croaking as their once-dead bodies now moved to stand guard at the door. Illya turned her back to them to stare at the boy who was thrown to the flooring.
"Well look what got dragged in." Illya chuckled darkly as she recognized the uniform.
"Scouts." one of the creatures wheezed toward Viktor. "This one...by embankment...four others...captured one...killed the others."
"Excellent work. We can handle this, return with the troops." Viktor ordered. He paused momentarily, thinking deeply before proceeding. "Actually, take two of your best men and return to the embankment. If you so much as see anything suspicious deal with it accordingly."
The creature nodded effectively, it's breathing apparatus bobbing along with his movements. He cuffed his partner's swelled head and pushed through the tenting, disappearing into the night.
"So who do we have here?" Illya asked with a small dark chuckle. She knelt down to get a better look at the boy's features.
The boy gave her a menacing look as she clasped his chin to get a better look at cocked her head to the side with a menacing smirk before she grabbed the scruff of the boy's neck, and lifted him up. He yelped out in reaction, throwing his gangly limbs to claw at her hand. He looked at her with wide ocher eyes as she slapped them away. Mud covered his young narrow face. He still had the slight childlike roundness to his cheeks. His wavy jet black hair was cut to military specifications. He couldn't have been any more than fourteen years old.
"I thought Grayer was too chicken shit to let you out of your cages, especially after that last training incident. Even I have to say that was quite a doozy of a fuck up." She looked at the boy curiously. "Tell me, are you afraid to die?"
The boy's features hardened into something stubborn. He brought a clenched fist up to his lips. With a millisecond of realization, Illya slapped the boy's hand away. A dark purple pill clattered to the floor. The boy cussed out angrily, giving a flailing attempt to break from Illya's hold once again.
"Obviously not, since you just tried to poison yourself." She chuckled. "See that's the thing about Piltovians that I have come to learn. You're all ready to do as you're told to ensure that progress is made for the next day, even if that means sacrificing yourselves. You'll do anything to move forward, and I can appreciate that." The boy gave a final attempt before Illya rolled her eyes. "Get me a chair Viktor, it's time the youth of tomorrow learn an important lesson of today."
The Cyborg gave a metallic sigh while crossing the flooring, retrieving a seat from his makeshift desk.
Illya stared at the boy's stubborn face. The two of them faced off. One with a raised eyebrow and the other with a serious line of angered lips.
Traitor. The voice breathed gently.
Annoyance crossed her facial features briefly. I thought I got rid of you.
I will never abandon the opportunity to aid my people. Runic energy glowed through her body, carving into her skin and causing a fire to go through her veins. You are making a mistake. You will ruin your home.
I am doing this to get my home back in order. She snarled back at the voice in her mind.
Stupid girl, Noxus is NOT your home. The voice growled. You will never be loved by Noxus. Her people hate the very air you breathe and the title you carry. You may be an heir to an empire but the people don't want your rulings. They only want strength, and YOU are Not strong enough. You are too weak. Too naive. Too lusted for power. Too stupid to see that your vision for Noxus is absolute ridiculousness. You can never tame the idiotic murderers. They want blood and strength. They will never accept another Swain on the Blood Throne.
You don't know a single thing about today's Noxus. You're just a lost Origin. Illya snarled in retort.
We see all. We watch all. We punish many.
Punish? I'll show you punish.
Illya raised her hand to the defiant boy, but before their skin could make contact, flashes of Piltover struck her features. The mines spilling out the miners after a hard day's work. Their faces covered in soot and sweat. Their coveralls stained with the dust of raw hextech crystals. Every one of them had a satisfied expression to their coal covered faces as they all cantered over to the Miner's Boot, a favourite pub of the working class.
Another flash. A beautiful park, with lush grass and tree canopies hanging over the land. Their branches intertwining over each other, providing perfect perches for larks and jays.
A large clock tower took to her vision of sight, people milling about rushing to work as doves took wing to the early morning sky.
Hexmobiles moving, their engines spinning with converted energy from mined crystals.
She saw winter balls, with aristocrats sipping Ionian champagne. She saw high strung jazz numbers performed by bands in an upper city speakeasy; middle-class citizens danced along with partners within the smoke-filled room.
She saw the many faces of Piltover. She saw the young gutter orphans scurrying from alleyway to alleyway. She saw the hardworking mother gathering her young children together as they walked to the markets. A yordle couple walking hand in hand. A fishmonger trying to sell some weird eyed flounder. A crossing guard ensuring the safety of children as they crossed the busy intersections of Piltover proper. The faces of the young soldiers, their eyes holding the doors to their dark and haunting pasts. Each of them horror filled and distant when faced with reality.
Her eyes then focused on the boy in her grip.
He is the living product of a city built on progression and unity. A city based on multiple cultures coming together as one to create a brighter future for their offspring. They are We and We are They. You are a traitor. And not to Noxus, but the very city that wanted to keep you. The very city that wanted YOU.
The boy's eyes widened as Illya, shook with rage. She set the boy down, before grabbing at his jaw with both hands. "You want to die so bad? Then here's your wish." She seethed, forcing the boy's neck into an awkward angle. A sickening crack echoed through the tent and he went limp. His wide ocher eyes, lifeless and glassed.
You are weak. But We understand your intentions.
"Shut up." She snapped. "I don't fucking care what you think about me. I don't care what you think will happen. My home is not Piltover. Noxus is mine and I will take it with the blood and sweat of my own strength. Get out of my head and leave me alone!" She roared.
She kicked the leg of the chair, sending the boy's body sprawling to the wooden planking. Her emerald eyes snapped to Viktor. He watched her stoically, letting his amber lumens observe her enraged form.
Runic energy practically formed a green cloud-like vapour, wafting from her skin. Her hands twitched reflectively as thoughts raced through her conscious. Viktor slowly took a step back.
"I am assuming that you are finally hearing them?" He asked carefully, preparing to move in to incapacitate the girl.
Every ounce of authority and power coursed through her body as she began to speak slowly and clearly.
"We must invade immediately." She commanded.
The runes etched on her skin, glowed a sickly green, making an old emotion unearth itself in the back of his mind. "Answer me." He ordered.
Illya stared at the mechanist with an ominous tilt of her head. "Did I ask you to question me or to question the very experiment that you had implemented into me?" She snarled taking slow agonizing steps toward Viktor. "Did I ask for your concern?" She came near centimetres to his face letting her glowing emerald hues dig into his amber lumens. "Or is it that you are afraid that your experiment made me insane? Is that it? Are you afraid of my possible insanity? Are you afraid that the voices attached to the rune magic are uttering sick and twisted whisperings into my thoughts? Or are you afraid of what truths they are telling me, Viktor?"
Her hand clamped around his neck, easily squeezing the metal guard formed around his non-existent throat. She raised the mechanist up into the air. "Your resentment and disgust toward me is very understandable." She chuckled darkly. "However, you must recall one thing Viktor." She sneered evilly, clasping her hand even tighter around his neck, bending the metal at the tips of her digits. "You made me what I am. I was the success you lost control of. So either keep your words to yourself and do your job, or allow me to destroy you. It is your choice, so take your pick."
"I am not questioning you," Viktor responded carefully. "More of getting answers for my research."
"Well stop worrying about your research." Illya snarled as she released him from her hold. "Piltover is practically hand wrapping their city to us. We only have a matter of time before they get suspicious when their scouts don't come back. We need to attack, now!" She ordered harshly, her emerald eyes dark with power. "Send out the order and have my men mobilized. Get every Zeppelin, tankard and canon ready to obliterate their streets. I don't care how we take it, but we capture Piltover by nightfall tomorrow."
"And what of the maniac?" Viktor asked.
"Were you not listening?" She snarled. "Get everything and anything we need to take that fucking city. Do not make me say it again."
"Of course Commander Swain." Viktor retorted evenly.
Illya sighed while crossing the planking of the floor to the exit of the tenting. "I must prepare myself. I have a few things left untied. Blood for Noxus." She muttered to Viktor before she ducked under the material.
"And let the glorious evolution begin." He replied to the empty space.
***********************************************************/)(\*******************************************
{My Chemical Romance- House of Wolves}
(16 hours before the attack on Piltover)
Rolum Freswick wasn't always a yordle on the other side of the law. He used to be a praised member of his community; an easy contender for the position of mayor in the small town of Voselheim just outside of bandle city. His father was a judge of the highest power and his mother was a medical worker. Among his younger years, he had always gone for the leadership roles, always taking the initiative to guide his fellows.
He now thinks back to the day his family shipped him off to Piltover to study political sciences at the Yordle academy. His father was so proud and his soon to be political comrades said they'd patiently wait for his movement to power like he truly deserved.
He chuffs into the bottom of his glass as he downs the brew in a swift gulp.
He definitely got into some kind of power. He has most of the Piltovian gangs under his paw with his smuggling rings and information systems. No one crosses him and he...well on good days does the same.
Honour among thieves and all that piddle.
The Miner's boot was a common frequent for those involved in his...profession. It was a dark smoke filled room that was always engulfed with hard looking individuals and exhausted crystal miners. Gamblers usually took up shop at the darkest of corners, every now and again the sound of extreme content or malcontent would erupt from the tables followed by the sound of a hexpistol going off or someone gurgling on their blood.
It was a fifty fifty kind of thing. Fairly interesting odds of survival to most; hence the busyness of the table.
If the gamblers didn't frighten you it was for sure the bartender gloomingly standing at the grimy pinewood bar top. Her arms and hands more scarred than the flooring scrapped by fights, barstools and dead bodies. She was a stout woman with more piercings than a bedazzled jacket. She was either mute or would rather just discuss using a series of grunts and eye-rolls as she served you; usually spitting a gobble of her infamous shimmer and tobacco mix by her side as she got you what you ordered.
She had a soft spot for Rolum as she always gave a gentle pat on the bar before serving him. A stark contrast compared to the gloomy shruggrunt that she would emanate for others.
"Lydia, I must say, when in the void hells are you going to get a day off?" He was never sure what her name was, but he always thought she looked like a Lydia. Some days he would think Marilyn, but Lydia seemed much better suited.
She hadn't maimed him yet, now had she?
'Lydia' gave the barest of side smirks that would almost seem like a grimace to the untrained eye of her mannerisms.
"You've given us a quench to our thirsts, it's about damn time you take a chance to look after yourself. I can easily contact someone to get you pampered like the true slum queen we all know you are." He chuckled ruffling up his amber fur behind his neck. He elbowed the drunkard beside him. "Jost you agree, right?"
The drunkard blearily looked to Lydia then back to Romul before wobbly raising his glass to the woman. In seconds his body slumped over and crashed to the side. A loud snore ripped through the air causing Romul to chuckle.
"See?" The yordle interjected. "It's been a hard day's work for me, Lydia. The cogs keep moving shit back and forth between Zaun and here. I dunno why, but they've been trading some interesting machinery. Almost had a run in with that bitch of a sheriff and her dep-" As if on cue, a small disturbance in the force of thievish peace amongst the bar made his ears twitch. "Speak of the devil and she comes, eh?" He winked behind his glass as he honed in on the sound of the disturbance.
We ain't lettin in a traitor. The guard at the door sneered. Beat it, before I call in the lads.
Easy Revil, I'm not here for trouble. I just gotta visit an ol' friend. The disturbance explained, tapping her fist against Revil's leather padded shoulder.
Beat it Enforcer. We've got Cogs who'd pay a pretty penny to have yer head and I'm running low on funds ya see?
You couldn't get a foot near me Revil. Remember the last time we did this? Just let me in. I ain't the enforcer right now, I'm a worried individual makin sure shit ain't about to blow the hell up.
Scram! Before I change my mind about seeing ya. The guard growled.
Fine. I've warned ya Revil. I really bloody did ya cock juice. There was the sound of a scuffle. Revil gave a cry of alarm, before his body (in this most likely instance) fell to the cobbled streets of the alley entrance. Knuckles were then cracked and the sound of a lighter going off caught his ears.
"Get ready Lydia. She's back." He cackled spinning in his stool to face the door.
A tall figure slipped through the entrance. She wore a black knit toque to cover her neon pink uneven hair. She even thought to smear coal dust and dirt over her cheeks to hide her tattoo. Her digits were buried deep in the leather jacket pockets; the lapels pulled up to shield against the spring wind. Hanging out of the corner of her lip was a cigarette.
A few eyes locked on her instantly. They too could see beyond her guise.
"What in the hells are you doin' here Vi?" One of the gamblers snarled from his corner. A chorus of angry 'yea's travelled around the criminally crowded bar. Someone busted open a beer bottle.
She raised her hands carefully from her pockets. "Now boys, like I said to Revil, I'm not here for trouble. This ain't for PPD business, this is strictly for personal shit."
"And where the hell is Revil?" One of the criminals demanded hotly.
Vi gave a sheepish grin. "Taking a well-deserved nap?" A burly man rose from the table next to where she was standing. Miffed, she pulled the cigarette from her lips and pointed a digit toward the burly man in warning. "Don't even think about it Bill. Just cause I'm not here for trouble doesn't mean I'm not willing to start some either."
More people rose from their seats, making the pinkette puff her chest, ready to start swinging.
Rolum gave a great audible sigh, making the room go quiet. Behind him, Lydia cocked a shotgun.
"Now ladies and gents, there is absolutely no need to tussle. We all know that this bar is well maintained for our purposes and what kind of guests are we if we destroy it. How could we do that to poor Lydia, hmm?"
The bartender grunted in agreement behind him.
"Relax everyone, she is instantly surrounded if she tries anything. She knows that she'll easily be taken care of if violence arises, now don't you Vi?" He asked raising his bushy amber eyebrows.
Her violet eyes swiveled around the bar in suspicion. "Yeah, whatever." She mumbled half audibly. "Could take all of ya with my gauntlets." She spat warningly.
"And that is how we know you aren't a threat, my dear. You are a stupid at times, but you aren't an idiot. You bring your gauntlets anywhere you go to start a fight. But you come here unarmed. A stupid sign of trust."
The pink haired brute once again swivelled her eyes around the bar, eyeing the almost growling group of hard looking individuals.
"Now what kind of desperation brought you here, hmm?" He patted the stool beside him. Lydia laid the shotgun along the bar and leaned herself over it.
The pinkette meandered her way through the sea of criminals and miners. Every now and again the words 'traitor', 'pig', and 'narc' spread through the room. Spit landed near her boots and on her person. Reluctantly, she sat on to the stool beside the yordle. Her back ramrod straight and her shoulders hunched over her ears.
She took a long stress filled drag from her cigarette before butting it out on the bar. "Where is she?" She questioned, keeping her eyes locked on the bartender who gave the same impassive stare she gives to all her patrons.
"Who, my dear?" Rolum asked. Even to this Lydia rolled her eyes in exasperation toward the yordle tunnel boss.
"You know who I mean." The pinkette hissed, turning herself to face the yordle.
Lydia's fingers drilled against the bar in agitation. Her body bristling like a feral cat.
"Ah, the pyrofiliac." He grinned, his canines bared slightly. "The last I saw of her was when she attacked the city. Didn't know her and that fucking psychotic metal prick were working together or I would have closed my tunnels. Which by the way, can you thank your lady for demolishing my last few? Those haven't been used by me for years and that asshole Corrid stole them from me. Practically took out my competition. I owe you two a bottle of the finest champagne." He looked to Lydia, who rose a slim eyebrow toward Rolum. "Remind me to do that. Oh and an engagement gift. You should have seen the shit storm that you caused here with that, my dear." He winked. "We always knew you had something with being handcuffed, didn't know you'd go as far to marrying for it."
Vi gave a disbelieving laugh. "You're hilarious, you furry fuck."
"That's Mr or even Boss furry fuck to you, Piltie Cop." He gawffed. "Anyways, I haven't seen a single blue hair from her. You aren't the only one looking for her either." He warned. "The kid won't stop. He's obsessed, and also on a vengeful spree to find yo-"
"I don't care about him." She cut off. "That is for another time. But you haven't seen or heard of her at all? Not even an explosives order?"
"Why? Are you wired? Cause I am not admitting to anything in front of you. No offence, my dear, no matter what you claim to be here for, I still do not trust you."
Vi gave him a very cold incredulous look. "Fuck off Rolum. Don't you know what I'm risking just coming here? Cait so much as catches wind that I've even walked a step toward this place, she'd snipe me faster than I could say 'wait'." She sighed. "I just...there's something off, ya know? She's had her time of being quiet, don't get me wrong, but this… with her and Viktor even. It just puts a bad feeling in my gut. You and Ferris always taught us to trust our gut, Rolum."
"Look I can tell you one thing. But if a pig comes anywhere near me after this looking for more 'evidence' to support what I'm going to say, it won't end well my dear."
The pinkette's violet eyes steeled instantly. Her fists clenched into tight balls as she stared down the small boss. "You so much as touch her-" She growled.
"Enough!" He barked, "I have some information, but I need something in return. I know your next patrol routing will be taking you near some areas that have a particularly curious investor of mine. We have an issue with him. I need the pigs to be...distracted and since you will be controlling that section, you can easily ensure some radio silence, hmm?"
Vi's jaw went tauter than a wire as she focused her eyes on the bar. Thoughts rolled through her mind like an angry storm at sea; crashing and churning into her cranium. She promised Cait that she would do nothing of this sort.
She was desperate though, and Rolum knew it.
"Fine. I'll set up a distraction and keep the attention off the area for twenty minutes starting at one tomorrow morning." She mumbled sourly.
"Excellent. Lydia, would you mind getting me another one of these fantastical beverages?" He questioned turning to the barkeep. Lydia hesitated for a moment, before grunting and setting off to get Rolum a newly filled glass.
The yordle reached out and grabbed Vi's collar, bringing her down forcibly to his height. "Viktor ordered over 5000 bits of raw crystals. All of it being arcane and runic. I myself didn't go for the order. Too risky, but he was waving around a Noxian symbol like it was a pig badge."
Vi's pupils dilated. "What is he planning?"
"I stayed out of it as much as possible. I don't like Noxians much, Vi." Rolum spat angrily. "And if that crazy experimenter is mingling with them, then I want nothing to do with it. I even denied access to my tunnels for the shipments. I even tried sabotaging it."
Lydia slid his new glass to him.
"Thank you, sweets." He winked. Lydia in response grunted as she resumed her position hovering over the shotgun on the bar, eyeing the pink brawler warily. "Anyways, If I could guess anything, he's probably caught her eye with something shiny and explosive. Probably gonna use her for something. Or he's using her as a new experiment. I honestly have no clue, but it will hurt my business and your city, so do what you must or I'll be handling it, and trust me, my dear, you wouldn't want that." He warned menacingly. "Now be off, you got your information, now get out of here, before I set the lads loose."
Vi stared at him momentarily, before nodding. "It's been nice. Stay out of the west end for a while. We're doing a raid this evening." She mumbled to him as she rose from her stool. She reached into her pockets, pulling out her lighter and her pack of cigarettes.
"We sure do miss you, my dear. Do send an invitation on your special day. I'll be very disappointed if I do not receive one. I'll also let Ekko know you've been sniffing around for her." He grinned.
Vi shook her head. "Yeah, yeah. Keep that pipsqueak on his toes for me, eh?" She placed a cigarette between her lips before turning on her heels and leaving the establishment. The surrounding personage watched her back like hungry wolves as she lit the cigarette. Without another word, she slipped out.
Rolum gave a great sigh. "All of you, listen up. The next time she comes poking her head around these parts, you have free reign. She's fair game from now on." He roared out.
Lydia grunted in agreement. She grabbed the shotgun and stowed it underneath the bar.
"Now what about that vacation, hmm?" Rolum began, making Lydia roll her eyes, and press her palm into his forehead, nearly pushing him off of his stool.
***********************************************************/)(\**************************************
{Woodkid- Iron}
(12 hours before the attack on Piltover)
The scent of war lingered in the humid island air. The acrid taste of iron and blood twined with the scent of fire and victory, slamming into his senses as he watched his soldiers and allies causing chaos among the civilians. The screams of villagers rang helplessly into the late evening sky, causing an odd sort of euphoria to overcome his body. He gripped his cane with his gnarled hands and watched as the village in the valley below become wrack and ruin.
Ever so slightly, amongst the distant light of the flames, one could have seen the slightest of smirks touching the corner of his scarred lips.
Beside him, shadows converged to form the shape of a man.
"You are late," Swain said as he watched a foot soldier run his sword through the stomach of an armed villager below. "It's almost a pity to exert so much energy on such weak opponents, but we do as we must."
"Apologies, Grand General." Zed bowed to Jericho. "My disciples and I intercepted a resistance force moving its way inward to help defend this village. They wore the colours of the Ionian guard."
"Ah, excellent, our message has been received." He turned on his heels instantly. "Almost foolish of their enlightened one to see if she could somehow stop my forces."
"This is not the likes of Karma." The shadow hissed. "Her council of imbeciles must have decided for her."
"I hope the future council you will lead will be rid of such 'imbeciles'. Stupidity like that makes me wonder how Noxus had been defeated by such...weakness." Disgust lined his voice.
Silence encompassed the two leaders as they made their way through the rainforest, leaving the vines to a clearing where Noxus's war forces situated themselves. They finally arrived at Swain's Grand General tent. Beatrice cawed in greeting, flapping smoothly to make her way to her master's shoulder. Her long talons dug into his large epaulettes as she squawked toward Zed who gave an impassive stare to the four-eyed creature.
Swain brushed a weathered finger along the raven's beak before curiously retrieving the message strapped to her right leg. Viktor's scrawling handwriting reflected off of Swain's grass green eyes as he read the message.
"The attack begins shortly." Swain deadpanned.
"On Piltover?" Zed questioned in slight surprise. "Shouldn't that be in another three days?"
"It seems Piltover's army has caught wind of Ionia and already deployed their forces to Ionian beaches to reinforce the capital."
"How could Viktor allow them to do that? Wasn't the whole point of him invading Piltover was to keep them from reinforcing Ionia?" Zed inquired cautiously.
"Yes, however, this plays well into our hand," Swain answered, swiftly hobbling over to his tactical map of Runeterra. "It is not Viktor who was solely tasked to that. My heir is leading that force. She must have sensed an easy opening. With this, they can exhaust the Piltovians of their resources by bombarding the city. The Piltovians will have no choice but to come back exhausted from fighting our siege on their city."
"You have an heir?" Zed asked suspiciously.
Swain rose a crooked eyebrow to the master of shadows. He replied with a moment of silence, ignoring Zed's inquiry. " We must compensate. We will have to march forward to Navori. I wanted to be able to contain leverage and have a siege and force Demacia to choose which city was more important, but we'll have to sacrifice that. Our fight in Ionia may last longer than we had intended. Leave me, while I strategize a much more useful plan now." He growled.
Zed bowed in respect. "Grand General." He uttered quickly before leaving Swain to his devices. He stepped away and dissolved into shadows. He himself had a plan he needed to devise.
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{Woodkid-Volcano}
(2 hours to the attack on Piltover)
Hundreds of feet sludge through the rocky shoreline. The sound of metallic movement thunders along the sea breeze air. Groans of bearing joints, cogs and gears echo along as his forces march forward.
Today they will conquer.
Today he will prove, once and for all, that this is the next superior path to human evolution.
His soldiers consist of his brave acolytes; their uniforms and masks are pristine and itching for the roughness of battle. The hulkers march alongside them; their broad chest and heavy set forms, ready to demolish all that stands in their way. The death-defying Noxian troops; all augmented and bloodthirsty, ready to prove they were worth the second chance. All of them do not fear the possibility of death, for they had experienced greater horrors before they became the strength that they are today.
"Creator, the experiment is prepared for battle. Her levels of dopamine have increased exponentially. We all believe that she is ready to be unleashed." AuG reported, pulling Viktor away from his prideful thoughts.
Viktor nodded as he slipped his fingers into metal shielded gloves. "Excellent." He turned to the robotic boy. "We will unleash her once we are closer to the drop point. You will stay behind to ensure her handling once we return from the fray."
"Understood," AuG responded, rocking back in his iron heels. "Will the heir have what she needs?"
"That is of no concern for you," Viktor replied stiffly. "Be concerned about the experiment. You seem to be a calming agent for overactive abilities." Without another word, he snapped the last buckles of his long chestnut leather jacket, before pushing through the tent flaps, his shoulders back as he strode toward his marching troops.
"Good luck, father." AuG articulated mechanically, his lumens blinking as he watched the tenting flutter behind Viktor.
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{Imogen Heap - Have You Got it in You}
(30 seconds until the attack on Piltover)
Morning.
The sun yawned it's way over the mountain range to bask a few rays of light into the foggy city streets. Some of the city's population rose with the sun, greeting the day with cracking bones and outstretched limbs. They would follow their routines of preparing themselves for another day of progress.
But the tragic thing about mornings is that they are always never the same.
And this morning was one that most wished had never even happened.
Tarryn Flynn, like the few mornings before, stood guard at the west bank watchtower. Below, her view, like mornings before, was a fog patch over the rocky coastline and grass green fields. The quiet push of waves rolling onto gravelled shore, lulled her senses as it pushed through into the long grass. Behind her, a small part of Piltover was beginning to rise from their beds. Soon she and her squadron would be able to return to theirs.
She rubbed the tiredness from her eyes with her leather gauntleted hands. She would get used to these shifts with time. This guarding of the border only began days before and her company as long as the ninth were stationed to guard the very outskirts of the city. They had reused the guard towers that were used during the first rune wars when Piltover was merely a young city, full of promise. Soon the Piltovian smuggling patrol would arrive with their multiple hands of construction workers to continue the build of the defensive walls. Then she would be relieved as the next squadron led by her sister, would take their place.
A push of gentle wind pressed waves heavily onto the shore, making rocks tumble along the shoreline. Like most mornings the gentle hum of machinery began as the city awoke.
But unlike most mornings, the hum was much closer to the border.
Strange, She thought, the usual quiet turning into something eerie as she realized that the birds of the morning haven't begun their songs. She was sure more rocks began to tumble against each other as if people were walking on them.
Unlike most mornings, something in her gut twinged.
"Hello." A voice from behind her spoke. It was slightly accented with harsh undertones of danger and violence. It almost sounded as smooth as Ionian silk. "You've chosen a poor day to obey orders from your superiors, soldier." The voice chuckled seductively.
She didn't feel the pain as the sword sliced through her spinal column and ripped through her abdomen. What registered in her mind was, That is the darkest metal I have ever seen.
Perplexed, her gauntlets glided over the tip of the blade. Curious as she was as to where this blade had come from she turned to face her assailant. As she turned the pain of the blade coming out of her body jolted her into reality as she fell to her knees in front of the girl.
Her second thought was a sigh of finality.
So this is how I die.
Her sister had always joked that it would be at the hands of a beautiful woman.
The girl had the most intense emerald eyes she had ever seen as she stared Tarryn down.
"Thank you for your service Soldier. I'm sorry you couldn't die on the battlefield with your brethren at arms." The girl chuckled as her small scarred hands slid along the soldier's jawline. "I can see why you were the object of her attention." She breathed as she observed the freckled face of the dying soldier before her.
Tarryn screwed her face in confusion. What was this angel of death talking about?
Blood fell from her lips as it pushed through her throat, making her choke. She fell fully onto the old stone flooring of the watchtower, her body becoming cold and heavy. The girl stepped over her struggling body to oversee her forces pushing through the fog banks.
Tarryn's final thought as her eyes began to get heavy and her consciousness fading to darkness was My, does the beach ever sound crowded.
And her dying thoughts were right.
The humming of large engines, the groan of metal cogs, the sound of emergency sirens and pounding feet lulled Tarryn Flynn quietly into death. She would never witness the large force that was preparing to charge and invade her beloved city. She would never witness the loss the city was about to face.
It was a mercy really. She had dedicated her life to be prepared for things like this. If she had faced this failure of allowing these troops to cross the border without so much as a fight, would have been the ultimate shame.
Illya Swain had bestowed this mercy to her and soon she would continue to bestow this mercy on many others.
Today Piltover will weep.