Shyvana had followed the road for as far as it had wound through the mountains. She had wound upwards for what seemed like days, winding further up through the rock strewn mountains before it had finally leveled out at the pass. She had crested the mountains and had nearly been blinded by the light of the sun rising over the distant mountains across the valley.
Shyvana paused, using her free hand to shield the rays of sunshine, the crisp, early morning air biting at her nose and ears. She breath clouded before her, as she paused at the very crest of the mountain, looking down into the valley. She frowned, the valley was an array of beautiful shades of orange yellow and red, the autumn leaves gorgeous, the first frosts yet to arrive. Icy gray rivers cut through the landscape like ribbons lain lazily across the ground, the largest of which cleaved the city in half. She frowned as she stepped off the crest, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She paused again, her free hand raising to her neck. She shivered, looking down to her boots. She raised her foot up, kicking the paving stones underneath her foot with her toe tentatively.
"This place is not friendly to the likes of me..." She said, shaking her head. She pulled her hood back up and stepped down the crest, following the path down away from the frigid pass. The steps had been carved directly from the mountain long ago and now they were worn from use, buried and completely worn away in many places.
"I don't think I'm going to recognize any city I ever visit..." She said, sighing crossly. "An outcast..."
Shyvana reveled in the downwards incline, her aching feet begging her to slow her pace, but her anger and determination driving her on further. The dirt and cut stone path turned into cobblestones as it wound down ahead of her, stretching forwards into the valley, towards the great black walls of the city. She slowed as the path turned away, back down the mountain, several totems rising up out of the ground just over the next hill. She stopped at the base of the steps as she had rounded the hill, a small plateau spreading out, the three dark totems and a broken stone wall between her and the city. She pulled her hood down around her face as a worn down cart, dragged by an even more worn down mule team trundled up the cart path, struggling up the side of the mountain. The path wound back and forth along the side of the mountain below the plateau, and the cart was just dragging onto the plateau as she reached it.
Shyvana paid the cart no heed, simply pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, wrapping the scarf around her face and then adjusting the cloth wrapped lance across her shoulders. She stepped up to the totems, laying the lance down as she rubbed her shoulder, glancing over the totems. There were three that stood fast, and though worn and faded, Shyvana could see that they had been carved from wood and had once been a beautiful ward to the city that sat below them in the valley. They stood sentinel to the path, as if warding away any evil that sought to gain entrance to the city... or they had at one time. She stepped past them, approaching the cliff that overlooked the city set deep in the valley.
Shyvana shivered, the demonic presence before her unlike anything she had ever seen before. She had heard stories of the human cities from her father, but she had never imagined that they would look like this. It was frightening... but also exhilarating. The fear that the city exuded caused adrenaline to rush through her body as she watched the city toil slowly about it's morning, the new sights, smells and danger it posed all exciting to Shyvana.
Shyvana steeled her nerves as she stepped away from the cliff that stretched out towards the sky and slowly approached the totems. When she had first approached them, they had seemed like elegant guardians to the city, but now that she grew closer, she realized they were warnings, not greetings.
The totems looked as if they tried to warn travelers to turn away, tall black pillars of smoke staining the sky, stretching up into the air from the murky depths of the city. Factories, buildings, and spires rose to the sky from various parts of the city, bastions from the filth that clung around them below. The rest of the city just blurred into a single mass of grey, black and muddy brown, pulsing and vibrating with life and death. It was not so much a city as it was a single great pulsating demon, waiting to rise up and snap at anything that dare poke it.
Shyvana was lost as she set a hand on the totem, closing her eyes and imagining the atrocities that the totems had seen. She heard the crunch of boots on stone, her body tensing, as if it knew what was coming.
"Looking for trouble?"
The voice was deep and guttural, as if the owner spent too much time screaming. Shyvana let out a short tempered breath as a pair of brutes stepped down from the tail of the wagon, not stopped on the level ground. One of them was tall and bulked up, his arms a thick as tree trunks. He had a sloped brow and one eye was slightly larger than the other. Shyvana expected she would have laughed if she hadn't seen the sword he drew from the sheath on the back of his belt. The weapon was heavy and had a flat back and a square head, more of a machete than a sword. He hefted the heavy steal blade, letting it sit on his shoulder in a cheesy, almost narcissistic stance. His partner was almost his exact opposite though, short and squat, built like a boulder. He had small, dark, beady eyes set deep in his face, his nose squashed, down and to the side, a scar running from the corner of his nose down to his chin. He wore a lopsided grin that displayed teeth that were a rotten brown and his hair was a greasy black mop that sat on the top of his head like a bad toupee.
Shyvana looked over her shoulder, turning slightly as she did. The cart and its mule had ground to a halt, the shrunken and wrinkled old man who was driving it clambering down from his perch to stretch his legs.
"Now boys, lets not give the poor lady a hard time." The old man squeaked, his small voice cracked and scratchy. He planted his fists on his hips and stood defiantly staring at the boys, but the larger one merely cracked his neck and put on a lopsided grin to mirror his lumpy brother. Shyvana could see the resemblance.
"Aw pop, come on, we just want to have a little fun." The short, fat one said with a greedy grin, as a tongue ran out and over his lips. Shyvana felt her stomach turn, but she merely clenched her fists, her pale skin a ghostly white over her knuckles. She could feel her teeth grinding in her mouth unconsciously as her anger threatened to boil over.
"Besides, with good like those, she's not just a simple farm girl." The taller one said, looking at Shyvana's long, pale legs. Shyvana bent over and picked up the lance, letting the heavy weapon rest on her shoulder.
"Boys..." The old man said, sighing painfully. He didn't seem to really care about Shyvana so much as he didn't want to deal with the trouble it would bring if the authorities got involved.
Shyvana turned fully to face them, tossing her cloak back over her free shoulder to reveal what armor she had below. She still wore her gauntlets and the base of her chest plate, the pauldrons and the armor around her waist. He growled, her feet planted firmly shoulder width apart and her arm held away from her body, the other wrapped protectively around the barrel of the lance. She flexed her fingers as she took a slow step forward, her thin waist slung with the heavy armor. She growled again, this time louder as she eyes gleamed behind her hood, her long fangs bared behind the scarf she had wrapped around her face.
"Going to start stripping for us?" The short one said with a sloven grin. Shyvana could feel her anger rising with every step closer they came. She could tell it wasn't so much at them, but anger at the death of the man who had saved her from herself and shown her compassion, at the hands of the red-haired witch and her blade toting man. It was still fresh in her mind, festering like an open wound. It was only making her angrier and angrier as she thought about it, her temper rising. She could remember his body growing cold in her hands, the anger she had felt at the helplessness she felt while she mourned his death. She now had two beasts to kill, the Dragon who had slain her father, and the witch who had slain her love. She had no leads on either of them, Kampf's trail going cold without the small Demacian tracker to help her. The only clue she had to go off of was the name of the blade bearing assassin, Talon.
Shyvana felt her eyes flare and she felt the skin on her face begin to turn to scales as horns burst painfully from her head. They pierced through her hood, curving back and up, away from her head. She cracked her neck as the two stepped backwards awkwardly, their eyes growing wide as dinner plates, horror spreading on their faces. She pulled the scarf down from her face and gave the two men a devious grin, bearing pearly white fangs.
Shyvana took a step forward, bringing her knee up to her chest and then crashing it down to the ground, cracking a paving slab in two as she leaned forward, bearing her teeth and letting out an earth shattering roar. The tone was deep and guttural, but it also carried the pained shriek of a wounded female, her honor at losing her mate ringing in her voice. She returned to her defensive stance as the two men fell backwards, the lumpy one struggling on his back like a turtle, the other sitting on his tail, a stunned look on his face.
"Wha...what... in the name of the guardians..." The two men looked on with a mix of terror and awe as Shyvana stepped closer. She hoisted the short, lumpy one high into the air, her hand around his throat, his stumpy legs waggling free in the air. Shyvana's eyes burned with anger as she glared at him, his face turning blue, his beady eyes bulging out of his head as he tried to struggle against her vice like grip.
"P...Put him down!" The taller one said, struggling to his feet. He still held his machete, but it was at his side, not held ready between him and the dragoness. Shyvana ignored him, instead jerking the lumpy one to get his attention.
"Tell me, where is the one known as 'Talon'." Shyvana growled. She paused, her teeth bared, the horns that crested her head looking menacing with the dark cloak she wore. The lumpy one gurgled helplessly, his face now a deep purple.
"Worthless." Shyvana said, tossing him away, lofting him a surprising distance, his brother's eyes growing even larger. He brought the machete up and held it with a shaky two handed grasp.
"You don't have a clue, human." Shyvana said with a sigh of disgust.
"Don't you look down at me, you beast!" He said, his voice betraying his fear. He raised his blade up as he charged blindly forward, bringing the machete down as if he was chopping wood. Shyvana swept her cloak out away from her body as she brought up her gauntlets in a cross before her, catching the angled swing in the 'V' that she had formed with the armored gauntlets, the heavy lance swinging about wildly. She sunk at the knees only slightly as the blade struck down. She twisted down and around ripping the blade from his hand and knocking him into the dirt with the length of the lance. Shyvana flipped the blade around and brought it up holding the blade flush with the side of his face using her free hand. He was frozen in his tracks, only his knees shaking.
"Do you know the one named 'Talon'?" Shyvana asked, her eyes narrowing to slits. She pressed the blade against his cheek turning his face as she inspected his face, sweat gleaming.
"N-n-no..." He said, gulping audibly. Shyvana growled, but let the blade fall to her side.
"What are you?" The old man stood there defiantly, his fist still planted on his hips, a sour look on his face as he inspected the dragoness. "What do you want?"
"I'm looking for a red-haired witch and her ward, a man by the name 'Talon'." Shyvana said, pulling her cloak back around her, hiding the crest on her chest plate. She pulled the hood back, running a hand along her head as the horns retracted. She grimaced as the sounds crept through her head, clenching her eyes shut against the pain. Transformations were never a pleasant process. She let out a small sigh as she opened her eyes again.
The old man didn't appear afraid or startled, but he also wore an expression that Shyvana read as a mix of worry and disgust. It caused her skin to crawl as the man stood there, judging her.
"I don't know a red-haired witch, but if it'll get you to leave us alone..." The man looked conflicted for a few seconds, but he sighed, taking the straw hat from the top his head and scratching a the thin white hair that had been hidden underneath. "There's a pub on the far side of the city called the Drunken Dagger. The man you seek frequents the bar there."
Shyvana spun on her heal and began her swift descent down the mountain, disappearing before the old man could get a second look at her.
He set his hat back upon his head and sighed, a frown planted squarely on his face.
"Get up, you idots." He spat, kicking the taller one in the foot. His eye twitched as the two boys pulled themselves to their feet. They stood their looking abashed as their father looked on with shame.
"Pop..."
"I don't want to hear it." The old man snapped. "Did she take the ax?" The taller son looked around lamely for a few seconds before nodding.
"Damnit." His father spat. "Now I'll have to buy a new one. Come on, before you two lugheads make any more trouble. Get the wagon." The boys shuffled their feet as they got set at the back of the wagon, ready to help the mule up the spooked mule get up the last leg of the moutain. As the old man prepared to mount his cart, he looked over his shoulder towards the city, where he had just finished a day of peddling his wares.
"Trouble is brewing..." He said ominously, talking to no one in particular. "The dragons have returned to Noxus."
Jarvan opened his eyes and immediately began to panic when he was yet again greeted by pure darkness. He began to reach out but his knuckles were soon greeted by click of impact on wood. Jarvan ran his hands around his as he he slowly began to realize where he was. He felt icy claws grip around his heart as he realized that he had been buried alive. The sound of shovels in dirt resounded from close by. He pounded on the top of the coffin, yelling as he did.
"HEY!" He roared. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
Silence followed for several longs seconds as Jarvan dare not even breath, his mind struggling to process where he was. He clawed at the lid, screaming at the top of his lungs like a child, his base feers overwhelming his mind. He paniced, breathing shallowly, rapidly, his fingertips bloody stumps, his nails broken away. Jarvan sat back, his mind unable to comprehend that he had been brought back, only to die a pitiful death in a wooden box.
He heard muffled shouting as the shovels started digging again, directly over him. Dust and particles of dirt fell through the thin cracks in the ceiling as the sound of shovels grew closer, deeper into the dirt. The sound of the shovel striking the pine boards was like music to his ears, the thought of real sunlight a god sent. The sound of shovels scraping dirt away and the frantic shouts of men could be heard from outside, the muffled through the box. Scraping metal resounded from the sides of the box as dirt was cleared away, followed by more shouting, clearer this time.
The edge of the lid was pried back, glimmers of bright sunlight shining, cutting through the pitch blackness of the sealed box. The smell of autumn leaves and the musty smell of days old rain drifted into the box as Jarvan pushed the lid up with a grunt, hands pulling the lid up and away, casting it aside.
Jarvan had to shield his eyes with his arm, a smile on his face as he sat back, relief swelling in his chest, the sunlight on his skin like the kiss of a beautiful woman. Jarvan took a deep breath, sighing and letting out the breath slowly, his mind still racing, his body suddenly feeling weak.
"Thank you... I thought I was dead..." Jarvan said, looking towards his saviors from beneath his arm. His stomach immediately turned though, the sight of crimson and black uniforms causing bile to rise up in the throat.
"Demacian armor?" One of the men said with astonishment. "How the hell... Out here in the boonies, no less."
"Somebody go get the captain." One of the men said with a grim smile, his shock receeding. "He'll want to see this."
Jarvan sighed, his shoulders drooping as he did. Jarvan dragged his hand acorns his face, his eyes dropping to his lap, wishing he had stayed in the damn box. He looked side to the side, three bodies casually tossed in to a hole unceremoniously nest to him, the cloth the bodies were wrapped in nothing more than bloody rags. The bodies were frail, probably nothing more that farmers, but the thought that they could be his friends caused his stomach to turn again. He was ready to be sick at the thought, but he held back the urge to vomit as he held a fist to his mouth, hunched over, still sitting in the box.
"Who are the bodies?" Jarvan said, beginning to stand.
"Farmers who thought they would try and hide a half-dragon from High Command. Not a smart choice, as you can see." One of the men said, smiling cruelly, looking down at Jarvan, chuckling at the look of horror on Jarvan's face.
"Where is she?" Jarvan snapped, growling at the man. The soldier was taken aback, his evil chuckle turned to a frown as he took a step back. "Tell me!" Jarvan demanded. The soldier seemed to recover, his shock turning into anger. He slammed his shovel into the dirt and leaned forward on it getting close enough that Jarvan could smell the stench of blood on his armor.
"W-we captured her!" He spat, his cruel smile returning. "Not without a taste of our spoils first. She didn't enjoy it at first, but after a while she loosened up and begged like a dog for more." He said, a sick grin on his face, closing his eyes as he laughed.
Jarvan's fists trembled with fury, his mind going blank at the very thought. He rose up, stepping out of the box, and up to the man. He grabbed the man by the neck, his hand like an iron vice on his throat, his face rapidly turning from white to blue to purple. Jarvan raised the man up off his feet, veins nearly bursting out of his arms as he lifted the man up.
"Don't you dare speak about her like that." Jarvan hissed, his voice rumbling with rage. The man clawed at Jarvan's gauntlet, his mouth held shut as Jarvan held him aloft. Jarvan slammed the man down onto the ground, crushing his throat and instantly killing the man as he drove his fist into his face, the hammer blow crushing his head. Jarvan stood up slowly, his face contorted in anger as he stepped over the body, spasms causing his hands and feet to twitch. Jarvan drew the dead man's shovel from from the ground with a bloody hand, turning and swinging the shovel wide as men approached, their weapons drawn. Jarvan took one of them by surprise, the shovel driving deep into his neck, blood spraying everywhere. Jarvan turned as the second man fell, his rage driving him forward.
"What in the hell is going on?" An officer Shouted with a grimace. His voice was deep and rumbled with an accent that Jarvan didn't recognize as the man approached, a number of soldier following in his wake. He carried a massive executioners ax as if it weighed nothing, dismissing men as he stepped forward. His face carried two massive bruises, one on the bottom of his chin, the other covering the entire right side of his face.
"He knows something about the dragon girl we're trying to find." One of the men said, standing well back from Jarvan's reach. They held swords and shovels between themselves and Jarvan, no one willing to get near him.
"Is that so." The man said, grinning. "Your friend gave me the bruises, you see." He said softly, his hand brushing against the bruised skin. "And when I get my hands on her, I'll make sure she gets a scar of her own to remember me by." He said, smiling, raking his thumb across his throat.
"Like hell." Jarvan growled. He paused, knowing he would go down.
"I can guarantee it." The officer said, grinning cockily.
"Bite me!" Jarvan shouted, hurling the shovel at the Noxian captain. The impromptu weapon struck the captain on the on the face, only the side of the handle striking his nose, but it was enough to send him reeling onto his back, collapsing onto the ground, as he clutched his nose, shouting angrily as blood poured profusely to the ground, dribbling over his face.
Jarvan snorted in satisfaction. "Bloody Noxians. Fuc-..."
CLANG. Jarvan collapsed, the sound of a shovel striking him on the back of his head ringing out loud.
"Bastard." The soldier said, breathing heavily as he held the shovel in both hands.
"Lock him up." Darius said, getting to his feet with help from his men. He waved them off. "Make sure he can't get free. I wanna know who the hell this tenacious sonofabitch is." He said, spitting blood at the ground just in front of where Jarvan lay face down. "Bastard." He muttered as he nursed his bruised nose.
"And what about this mess?" One of the men still holding his shovel asked.
"Finish burying to bodies, we move immediately." Darius said dismissively, turning away. Several of his men fitted Jarvan with manacles, dragging him away by his arms. "And keep me apprised of any news of his dragon friend. I want her captured." He growled.
"Yes, Captain Darius." The men saluted, stepping off quickly to get things finished and move out. Smoking ruins of a barn and farm house still smoldered in the mid day sun, the hallowed remains of a once quaint farm. Darius grunted in disgust as he walked past it all, back towards the road.
"Trouble, brother?" Draven said, an annoyed look on his face.
"A prisoner." Darius growled, leaning against the fence that Draven sat with his back to, his eyes closed, as if he was napping. "He knows something about the she-dragon." Draven opened an eye, looking to his brother.
"What'd he say?" Draven asked, feigning mock-interest.
"Not much regarding the girl." But he killed one of our men with his bare hands and then nearly beheaded another with a shovel. Draven merely chuckled.
"Who the HELL are these freaks?" He exclaimed, tossing his hands up in the air, cringing as he did. Unlike Darius, almost all of Draven's body was covered in bruises. Movement in general was immensely painful for the Noxian.
"That's exactly what I want to know... and what I am going to find out." Darius said, flexing his hand.
"We headed home finally?" Draven said, sighing.
"Yes. We make for Noxus at once." Darius said, smiling. "Swain will want to know about this."
Shyvana paused as she stepped through the city gates, looking up and around her, intricate buildings of grey and brown rising up towards the sky, all but blotting out the sun in the dark streets. Men, women and children alike cowered in the gutters as a heavily armed Noxian Company approached from deeper within the city. She made herself scarce, dipping into one of the side streets, the long bundle that she carried over her shoulder enough of problem to attract attention as it was. She set the weapon down as the company of soldier made their way past, each rank and file well disciplined and supremely kept.
Shyvana would have dismissed it as nothing more than a show of force if it wasn't for the scars that the company bore. Man, weapon and armor all bore signs of battle past and recent, some men still sporting bandages. They paid no heed to those who cowered back from their presence, simply marching through the streets, heads held high and weapons poised at the ready. These were not men simply going out for training or patrol, these men were preparing for war. They were the iron fist that held the rule over the city with a vice like grip, their mere presence enough to inspire dread among the populace.
Shyvana shivered as the last row of troops swept past. She began to step back into the street, but only noticed too late that the other beggars and scoundrels had stayed sunk back. As Shyvana stepped into the street, a carriage came to a screeching halt, the coachman yelling expletives as his team of pitch black horses reared up and neighed angrily, kicking out as Shyvana.
"WOAH!" HE shouted, fighting to control his team. "WOAH! Watch out, you blithering idiot!" He shouted down at Shyvana as she picked herself up out of the dirt, the horses shaking their manes and heads derisively at her. She snapped her jaw at them, and instantly the horses took steps away, their anger now turned to fear. The Coachman opened his mouth to speak but Shyvana shot him a glance that clicked his jaw shut before he could speak. Shyvana bent low and retrieved the lance, still swaddled in heavy burlap, and swung it over her shoulder.
"Jackins," A raspy voice called from the carriage. "What' ever is the hold up?"
"Nothing, master." The coachman called nervously, reigning his team back in. "A peasant girl merely spooked the horses." The horses were unsettled, and the coachman kept a watchful eye on Shyvana as she stepped away, the heavy burden on her shoulders.
"A peasant... spooked the horses?" The voice repeated. Long spindly fingers grasped the carriage door, swinging it open, as a pair of guards dismounted the rear pedestals of the carriage where they hung to the carriage. The moved quickly and in time with each other, approaching the door of the carriage, lowering the steps that lead into the small cabin.
Shyvana looked up to the coachman, his face a pale white as he looked over his shoulder at the dismounting passenger. Dread began to fill her stomach, wishing she could fade back into the crowd. Her carelessness was going to cause more trouble.
A man wearing a long, emerald green cloak stepped down from the carriage, a bird shaking it's head on his shoulders and twisting about, looking at Shyvana. Shyvana took an uneasy step backwards as the six-eyed creature spitted her with a glare that caused her skin to crawl, goosebumps rising all over her body. She shook her head as the man greeted her with an impassable stare, his balding head gleaming in the dull light. He walked with a cane, hobbling towards her after glancing around the streets. As if on queue, the streets seemed to empty, all of the beggars not wishing to stay and witness the confrontation between the girl and the old man. He swept forward, decorative armor clanking as he walked, limping with every step he took. He raised the cane and pointed it at Shyvana.
"You, girl." He said, glaring at her with piercing crimson eyes. "What us your name?"
Shyvana paused, her throat dry as she stared the man down. She felt like she knew him from somewhere, some unconscious thought screaming at her to run away, but her feet were firmly cemented to the ground.
"Shyvana." She said firmly, clearing the hesitation from her voice.
"I'm not familiar with it..." He said, eying her red hair and magenta eyes that stood out from under the hood and scarf that Shyvana had wrapped around her face. "Where do you hail from?"
"I came from below the barrier, the deserts of Shurima." She answered hesitantly. The man eyed her cautiously, his eyes running up and along her body. Shyvana immediately dirty, like she had been dipped in grease. She shivered.
"I see..." He mused, furrowing his brow. "That is certainly a large weapon for such a small... woman." He hesitated on the last word, as if he could see through the disguise and see who, what, she really was.
"I can handle it well enough." Shyvana said defiantly, taking a step forward, her anger starting to rise. She paused, blinking as the man turned away, nodding.
"See that you do." He said, chuckling. "We Noxians value strength above all else. If you can handle such a weapon with ease, you would surely do well in The Pit." He said, mounting the stair to the carriage. "Search it out if you ever get bored, we can always use people like you." The guards slammed the carriage door shut, raising the steps up, and sweeping back around the edge of the carriage. It rocked slightly as they mounted their posts, standing on the plates and holding to the bars.
"I will..." Shyvana said with trepidation, eying the man in the shadowy interior of the cart.
"Driver." He snapped. The coachman whistled and cracked his whip, the cart lurching into motion, picking up speed as it raced to catch up with the company of men.
Shyvana stood at the side of the path as people returned to their business, but now, they skirted around her, giving her a much wider berth as they did, her feet still locked in place. Shyvana fought the urge to vomit, her knees suddenly weak as she breathed deeply, her fear ambushing her, the adrenaline draining from her system.
She looked upwards towards a tall spire, rising up from the ground above the rest of the city, resting on a cliff side that dwarfed the rest of the city. Shyvana decided that she would head towards the skull that had been carved out of the mountain and set off, her feet still seeming to drag as she forced herself forward, step by step. She took deep breaths as she did, doing her best to slow her heart.
That man... just who was he?