"I had only heard stories of the impenetrable shield of the kings. If that is so... then you're really the prince..." Constantin Steelsword stammered from where he had fallen to the ground. "What are you... why are you protecting me?"
"This isn't for you." Jarvan wheezed through gritted teeth as he dropped to one knee, a hand gripping his chest. He kneeled over Delancey, propping himself up with his lance, hanging on it heavily. Jarvan watched as men struggled to their feet slowly, crossbow bolts spread out around his men like a sickened blue garden of roses.
"Prince..." Delancey said weakly, looking up at him. Her eyes went wide with shock as blood dripped down onto her chest. She reached up with her good arm, stopping the rivulets of blood that leaked from one of Jarvan's nostrils. She pulled her hand away and looked at it in disbelief. "You're... injured…?" Jarvan wiped the blood away as he hauled himself to his feet.
"Let me take a look at it..." Quinn said, fishing on her belt for something to deal with it, starting towards the prince, but he waved her off.
"We have no time." Jarvan growled, his voice almost distant. "Forsythe! Move Del and the smithy into the forge! Sergeant Major get ready to charge!"
"Sir?" Forsythe stammered, looking from Del to Jarvan, a mix of outrage and fear on his face. "You can't hope to take them all on..."
"I don't have any choice." Jarvan growled, pulling his lance from the ground as he stepped over the sergeant. "I've faced down worse threats before. Take care of Del, Forsythe." Forsythe watched the prince with a frown, but his frown turned back to the girl in his arms when she moaned softly.
"How's the arm, Del?" Forsythe said, looking down at the young woman as she pushed herself up against the edge of the building, pain etched into her face as she whimpered slightly. The massive black crossbow bolt jutted from her shoulder at an odd angle, the eerie blue mist dripping from it like a malicious, poisonous mist. Delancey grasped at her arm just above the elbow, blood dripping from her shoulder.
"It's cold." Delancey said softly, her voice wavering. The crooked grin she wore was fitting with the messy blue hair, though her eyes seemed a bit dimmer than normal behind her half closed lids. The deep red of the blood that cover her chest and stomach and the pale expression on her face left her looking out of character. Forsythe gave her leg a squeeze and a fleeting smile.
"Hang in there." He said softly, encouragingly. "Del's not looking so good, Jarvan. I don't like this thing stuck in her shoulder."
"Just leave it!" Jarvan snarled, sliding to cover as a bolt flew overhead, exploding on the wall of the Forge. He grunted as he hit the ground, ducking behind the waist-high rise that ran in a loose semi-circle in front of the house and along the front of the forge. Snow splattered, exploding up around him from the other side of the bank as the flurry of bolts struck the ground. "We don't have time for this!"
"Like hell!" Forsythe snarled, glaring at Jarvan. "I'm going to remove this thing, keep us covered!"
"Forsythe! Leave it for now." Jarvan growled, watching as several soldiers spread out around him and Quinn. "We can't clean it properly here." More bolts struck the bank as he started to push himself up to look over. "We're going to get pinned down, Forsythe! Just leave her and get out here!"
"Fuck that!" Forsythe snarled back fiercely. Jarvan quickly looked over his shoulder and met Forsythe's intense eyes glaring back at him. "Would you leave Shyvana if she were injured like this?" The prince sighed and turned away, looking back over his shoulder. "The effects are spreading towards her heart and she starting to fade. If I don't remove it now, she's going to die!" Jarvan glared at the corporal. "Are you really going to let her die, Jarvan!?"
"No." Jarvan muttered, shaking his head sharply. "Do what you want, just make sure she's stabilized and then get up here. There are a lot of bad guys. Quinn, give him a hand." The tracker dropped down behind the bank, sliding down to the ground and looked from Jarvan back to Forsythe and and went to his side. She frowned, looking over the wound.
"Jarvan, I've never seen a wound like this, I don't think I'd be of any use…" Quinn said softly.
"Go, keep Jarvan out of trouble, Quinn, I've got this." Forsythe grumbled as he set about checking Delancey's wounds and trying to make her as comfortable as he could as quickly as he could. "Sorry, babe, this might hurt a bit..." Quinn patted Forsythe on the shoulder and then scrambled out the door, back against the bank.
"Here..." Steelsword said, handing Forsythe a heavy pair of smithing gloves and a heavy pair of tongs. "These should help." Forsythe nodded his thanks, pulling the gloves on over his gauntlets, the massive gloves barely fitting. He picked up the tongs in one free hand, moving towards the downed sergeant.
"What are you going to do?" Delancey said, opening her eyes just enough to see the corporal standing over her. She groaned as Forsythe wrapped a rag around the base of the crossbow bolt and kneeled down over her. "Sorry, I'm not up to giving you one right now, maybe later?" Delancey tried to laugh, but the ragged cough ruined her joking tone.
"This can't wait." Forsythe cooed softly. "Just bear with it for now."
"Please be gentle." Delancey said demurely, trying to laugh again. She winced, trying to sink back away from Forsythe. "It hurts to laugh..."
Quinn shook her head from outside, sighing, glancing at Jarvan. "Are they always like this?"
Jarvan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just about. Get ready to flank left. I'm going to charge as soon as she screams. They should be distracted just long enough that I can break through the barrage and engage. Argus, I want you with me, pick up after me, alright?"
"I've got your back, sir." The sergeant major said, looking around the edge of the outbuilding he had pushed himself up against.
"You sweep into the hole I create, Quinn you mop anyone up you can." Jarvan took a deep breath and looked to Forsythe, nodding once. "Whenever you're ready, Forsythe."
Forsythe nodded, turning to Delancey and resting a hand over her chest and shoulder, putting the bolt between his index and thumb. The flesh was chilled to the touch. "Ready?" Forsythe said hesitantly. "On three... One..."
"Wait... on three?" Delancey murmured, a faint smile playing over her face. "Or on go?"
"Three." Forsythe said, grinning, brushing hair from her face, smiling at the sergeant. "One!" He grabbed the bot and ripped it free.
Delancey screamed in pain, her body writhing and bucking as Forsythe snarled and tossed the bolt away, the glove smoking.
"Now!" Jarvan bellowed, scrambling up the bank. He slammed the butt of his lance down onto the ground as he leaped forward off the top of the bank, sending a standard arcing through the air. It landed atop one of the cloaked men, cutting through his leg as he scrambled to get out of the way. He screamed in terror, clutching at the stump of a limb as he rolled in the muddy snow. Jarvan slapped the trigger of his lance as he hit the ground in a slide, extending the tip, the force of the explosive extension grinding him to a halt. Jarvan impaled a second man, snarling as he swung the lance and knocked a third man down. He hooked a barb of the lance's tip on the standard and slapped the trigger again, the lance retracting and ripping the prince from where he kneeled. Jarvan ripped his lance free from the standard while he was still midair, wheeling his arms about as the lance finished retracting, using the force of the weapon to cartwheel the lance about and bring it down in front of him and striking a soldier in the gut as he landed. The man exploded into a fine red mist, as a shock wave echoed through the forest, the trees shivering and snow drifting to the ground from the canopy above.
Men in black stood, stunned in sheer terror, as Jarvan extracted his bloodied lance, spinning it in a flourish to cast the guts aside and then dropping his shoulder to charge another soldier. Jarvan clobbered the man as he tried to roll out of the way, catching the man's ankle with one of the spikes on his pauldron, blood splattering the prince's face and sending the man cartwheeling to the ground. Jarvan swept his lance down across his throat, ending the man's pained cries as he clutched at his mangled ankle.
Sergeant Major Perrywinkle lashed out and caught one soldier on the arm, just below his elbow, sending a hand flying to the ground. It landed atop join another man in black who was lain out, blood pouring from under his hands clutched over his throat. The disarmed man stumbled backwards, clutching at the bloody stump as blood poured from the arm. The sergeant major raised a boot and caught the man high on the chest, sending him crashing backwards into two of his mates, but the snow under foot sent the Sergeant Major sprawling and cursing to the ground. Men started to swarm forward in a maddened charge, their brethren laying bloody and wounded around them.
"Fall back!" Jarvan bellowed, setting his feet as he watched crossbows come up around him. Jarvan gritted his teeth as he felt the energy pour through him, the golden barrier erupting around him. He felt his chest ache and his arm felt numb, but he held the shimmering golden barrier up as he backed away. He reach down and scooped the sergeant major up off the ground, the man cursing and snarling as he got to his feet. He hobbled, barking in pain between words of ill-repute, hopping towards the embankment with the prince's help.
"Fuck this." The sergeant major dove over the bank and slid to a stop at the bottom, spinning and pressing his back to the ground, looking down at his ankle with a pale face, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Jarvan let the salvo of bolts strike and bounce away before dropping the barrier and then limping over the bank. He collapsed against the snow, clutching at his chest and breathing sharply. Two men came up over the rise above him as he just started to turn. The prince snarled, bringing his weapon to bear, but he could feel their crossbows trained on his chest.
"Get him, Valor!" Quinn barreled over the first man, striking his chin with a knee as she practically tossed the eagle at the second man. "Gouge out his eyes!"
Valor screamed as he bore massive talons, clawing out the man's eyes, blinding him, sending the man tumbling backwards over the wall. Quinn leaped upwards off the man she had kneed as he arced backwards, bringing her crossbow up and putting a burst of three bolts into his chest as she hung in the middle of the air. Quinn landed gracefully, turned instantly and put two more bolts into the man who was flailing his arms, trying to beat off the Demacian Eagle. Valor screeched and climbed away, dodging a wildly fired bolt as he fought for altitude.
Quinn dropped down next to the prince, grinning. "You need to watch yourself, prince." Quinn quipped. "You're getting sloppy."
"Yeah, and you're late." Jarvan muttered between breaths. "Forsythe, we're starting to run out of space out here!"
"Del's not getting any better." Forsythe snarled, moving towards the door, and looking out at the prince. He flinched as a crossbow bolt struck the stone building, the stone reverberating slightly above him. "She's barely with us right now..." He looked into the room and gritted his teeth. "I don't think she's going to make it if we don't get her medical treatment!"
"Fuck." Jarvan hissed. "Quinn, do you think you could do anything?"
"I doubt it." She said, shaking her head with a frown. "All I have is a few health potions. Would that help?" Forsythe nodded and Quinn pulled a small crystal vial filled with a ruby liquid, tossing it to the corporal. He disappeared into the forge. Quinn peaked over the edge of the embankment and fired off two shots to keep the men at bay before she was answered with a hail of arrows, a grin on her face as she ducked down next to the prince. "Besides, I can't leave you out here with these assholes, now can I?"
"If I can get her to the horses and we can distract the enemies long enough I think we can get her clear of the danger." Forsythe said from within, pushing himself up just high enough to look over the embankment. A faint green glean could be seen shimmering against the walls within.
"She can't even stand, how is she going to make it to the castle?" Jarvan snarled back.
"I'll take her." The sergeant major growled. "I think my ankle is shot anyways..." His armored boot had been twisted at a sickly angle and blood leaked from beneath the armored plates. "I'm no good here, but I can still ride."
"They'll never let you get to the tree line, though..." Jarvan protested.
"I can keep them suppressed." Quinn said, grinning. "Valor can blind a few if they group up and I can pick off any stragglers." She stuck her head over the rise and fired off a wild shot.
"They're too well organized to stay down long enough for Forsythe to get them mounted and to the tree line. Besides, we couldn't stand in the open long enough to get Del and the sergeant major on a damn horse. It'd be suicide."
"Take one of mine!" The blacksmith piped up, sticking his head out the door. "The black mare. She's fast. Take her. She's in the barn behind the forge!"
"But..." Jarvan set his jaw and shook his head. "Fine, Forsythe, get them to the barn and get them mounted. Quinn and I will buy you enough time to get set. Soon as you're mounted, let me know and we'll clear a path for you."
"On it!" Forsythe barked, grinning bravely as she scooped up the small sergeant in his arms and ducked low, moving around the building. The sergeant major glanced at Jarvan and nodded, dropping off the embankment. He stood up, and looked over the top, a crossbow bolt striking the forge behind him, exploding into shards. The smithy dived to the ground, covering his head.
"Can't do nothing down there, sonny." The sergeant major growled, kicking the smithy with his boot.
"Sir, I'm a noncombatant." Constantin said, looking up and over his shoulder as the sergeant major hobbled across to slump against the forge, glancing nervously towards the embankment as another crossbow bolt struck, sending a splattering of mud crashing down over them.
"Ain't no such thing today, boy." The sergeant major grabbed the smithy by the collar and pulled him up, the smithy still looking around nervously.
"Fine, this way, hurry, hurry." The blacksmith said, ducking out of the forge and moving around the building. "The stable is on the back of the building. We should be safe while we mount if the prince can keep their focus up here."
"Don't do anything stupid." The sergeant major growled. "I'll be back, soon. I'll kick your father's ass if I have to."
"Here." Jarvan muttered, grunting a muted chuckle, fishing something out of his tunic. He held up a small golden coin and then handed it over to the sergeant major. "Just show my father this. He'll come."
"But sire..." The sergeant major said softly. "This is..."
"They can't prove anything without it." Jarvan said with a grin. "I'm of no use to them if they can't."
"Yes, but..." The sergeant major growled softly, shaking his head.
"We'll be fine! Now go!" Jarvan hissed. The sergeant major looked cross, but nodded, tucking the coin in his pocket and following the smithy and Forsythe around the building, crawling behind the embankment to stay behind cover.
"How exactly do you plan on distracting the remaining men?" Quinn asked nonchalantly, firing off a wild bolt. "They won't scatter like the last time you charged. Their leader is getting quicker about reacting to what wildcards we have to throw at them..."
"Then we simply cut the head off the snake." Jarvan snapped, impatiently. He tightened a hand around the lance, taking a deep breath. "I can isolate the leader and deal with him. You scatter the trash and keep them panicked with their heads down when the sergeant major and Del make their break for it, okay? Once they're gone and we've thinned their ranks a bit more, we can regroup and reset."
"I suppose that's workable." Quinn said, frowning. "I don't like going up against what, nine, ten men alone though..."
"You won't be alone." Forsythe said, sliding down to a stop at the base of the embankment, an eager grin on his face. "I got your back, Quinn. Just like old times." A flicker of a smile lightened the rangers face for a few brief moments.
"Aren't most of your weapons still with the horses?" The ranger asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a moment of defeat on the corporal's face but he shrugged, raising a weapon in one hand and hefting a rock in the other.
"You're kidding, right?" Jarvan muttered, deadpan. "That's a woodsman's ax and a bloody rock!"
"You let me worry about that, alright?" Forsythe said with a vicious grin. He hefted the rock, tossing it up and down several times, catching it in his palm. He spun the axe about his left hand, grinning crookedly as the weapon twirled about his thumb, a flash of brilliant, razor sharp steel glimmering in the dull, mid-morning light. Thin ribbons of blue color shown in the head as he examined the weapon with a thin grin on his face. Jarvan fit him with a frown, but the gleeful excitement on Forsythe's face caused Jarvan to scowl.
"As long as you've got my back, Forsythe." Jarvan examined the barrel of his lance, checking the standards within.
"Always, sir." Forsythe said, patting his shield with the head of the axe.
"You're both mad..." Quinn said, shaking her head. "They're well outside your engagement range, prince. You'll get slaughtered before you even get close... you won't even get half way there."
"I've got an idea…" The prince frowned as he looked around, his eyes settling on the corporal's shield. "But maybe not crazy enough..." Jarvan murmured, a wild eyed grin forming on his face. "Forsythe, gimme your shield."
"You... you're not planning what I think you are... are you?" Forsythe's eyes went wide as he handed it over, his grin growing wider. "You are planning what I think you are!"
"I'll take care of myself, don't you worry." Jarvan said, accepting the heater shield and attaching it to his arm. He slid his hand into the enarmes, flexing his hand to ensure it was in the proper position. He looked to the building behind them. "How much longer?"
"We're ready to go!" The blacksmith shouted, sticking his head around the corner. "Just say the—..." His voice cut off abruptly, interrupted by a splash of water and mud and the thump of something heavy hitting the ground.
"Wha..." Forsythe spun and watched as the man tumbled to the ground from the around the corner of the building, his chest slowly turning red, blood spreading across his chest. Constantin looked down at his chest as he exhaled softly, rolling onto his back. Two large black bolts protruded from his chest.
"Run, you fools..." The man spoke with his last breath, his head collapsing back onto the ground. Jarvan looked at the man, dead on the ground for a moment before his eyes flew open wider.
"FUCK! Go! Now!" Jarvan exploded upwards, spinning as he slammed his lance into the ground and sending the last of his standards flying through the air. It landed well short of the leader of the men in black, Lambert. He chuckled, watching as Jarvan mounted the top of the rise, wearing an unimpressed looking grin.
"What are you going to do, prince!" The man spat, shrugging as he gestured to his men, their weapon's rising up. "Surrender and I'll make your death swift!"
Jarvan hooked the tip of the lance on the standard and slapped the trigger, sending him skidding forward. Jarvan sliced the enarmes free and cast the shield onto the ground and caught it with his foot, sliding along the snow as he accelerated, the lance nearly ripping his arm out of his socket. Jarvan snagged the standard as he raced past as he skimmed over a sheet of ice, striking a sharp incline. "DEMACIA!" Jarvan shouted his battle cry as he arced through the air towards Lambert and Jarvan threw the standard like a spear, the flag just brushing Lambert's face as it impaled his lieutenant.
"What the fuck?!" Lambert snarled as he spun and tried to scramble away. Jarvan brought his lance down with such force that the ground shuddered beneath his feet, sharp spikes of rock and ice jutting up around him in a circle, entrapping him in the arena. Jarvan spun as he came up, ripping his lance from the ground and letting the tip arc up and slice the impaled soldier from thigh to shoulder.
Jarvan gripped his chest, planting his lance and leaning on it heavily as he sucked in greedy breaths of air, panting hard.
Lambert looked at the sheer rock wall and then his lieutenant as he blanked for a moment. He slowly turned and faced Jarvan, struggling to regain his composure. "You've got me trapped. Well done. Now what?"
"I kill you." Jarvan grunted, starting forward, starting to bring his lance up. The leader grinned viciously, tossing his crossbow aside and producing a sword that hissed as he drew it from his sheath. It hummed and glowed with a red sheen, its thirst for blood visible in the cast of the steel of the blade. He charged forward and Jarvan swept into the arc of his charge, dodging the thrust of the serrated blade. The man slid back and spun, bringing the sword up across his body and then back down, catching Jarvan in the thigh, gashing the prince and sending him sprawling backwards. The sword seemed to howl in excitement as blood dripped from the blade. Jarvan collapsed backwards against the wall of his arena, his free hand straying to the wound on his leg. He stole a look down at his wound, keeping his hand up and aimed directly at Lambert. The sword had caught him just inside his armored tassets, and though it had missed the artery, Jarvan dropped to one knee, gasping in pain. Blood ran freely down his leg.
"You're foolish to think me easy prey if cornered." Lambert chuckled as he danced backwards and then forwards again, spreading the prince's blood across the snow with a flick of his sword. Jarvan snarled, swinging his lance in a broad stroke as he launched himself forward, but the man simply chuckled, parried the heavy strike, and used the force of the parry to bring his sword down and around to slice at Jarvan's other leg. The prince spun his lance, using the barrel to block the second strike, levering the man's force to swing his lance down in a rapid counterattack. Jarvan stepped into the strike, but the wounded leg buckled from underneath him. Lambert ducked the prince's riposte, sliding through his guard and drove his blade into the prince's shoulder, driving the prince back against the wall. Jarvan snarled in pain. "You're slow, Prince Jarvan. Your charge is dead, your men scattered and you're barely able to stand. Do yourself a favor and give up!" Lambert worked the blade about in Jarvan's shoulder, the prince gritting his teeth for the first moment before he finally let out a pained cry. Lambert's smile grew as he leaned more heavily on the blade, driving it deeper through Jarvan's shoulder. "Well? Beg for it and I may spare you a few moments misery!"
"Bite me!" Jarvan snarled, pushing forward, grabbing the man's hand on guard and pulling it to his chest. Jarvan swung his fist, catching Lambert on the chin with a wild haymaker, sending the man flailing backwards, ripping the sword from the prince's shoulder. Lambert snarled as he wiped blood from his split lip, raising his guard and charging the prince. Jarvan grabbed his lance and brought it up, catching Lambert's sword and knocking it out of his way. Jarvan wheeled and brought the lance across Lambert's chest, his eyes bulging in surprise as he danced backward, just barely dodging the weapon, rolling away, hissing as he stemmed the tide of blood with a finger.
"You're full of surprises, but so am I!" He laughed as he produced a handgun and leveled it at the prince's head. He shrugged and looked down at the weapon, pulling the hammer back, a cylindrical object rotated slightly as he did.
"Hah..." Jarvan breathed raggedly, blood dribbling down his chest and from his leg still as he leaned on his lance. "That's not fair... bringing a gun to a sword fight." his head lolled back against the already blood stained rock wall as he chuckled weakly, coughing as he did.
"Fair?" Lambert laughed sharply. "Thus is life, prince. You may not know much about it since you're royalty, but life has a way of fucking you over sometimes." He sighed and shrugged, grinning, admiring the weapon he had leveled at the prince. "Piltovan hextech technology, another treasure here thanks to the Institute of War. It's an elegant weapon, and effective too. Goodbye." The pistol shot rang out, striking the prince low on the abdomen. Jarvan hit the ground, holding his side, air escaping his mouth in a silent scream of pain. Lambert frowned, looking down at the weapon in hand. Smoke issued from the barrel, and when he tried to draw the hammer back, the cylinder didn't budge. "Worthless piece of shit." He sighed and kneeled down next to Jarvan, tapping the prince's chin with the tip of the barrel. "Well that was a waste. I hate technology like this. Always so fickle. What's a man to do?"
"Screw you." Jarvan gritted his teeth, glaring up at the man, his blue eyes almost glowing with hatred. His hand went to his lance, but Lambard dropped a knee on it, ripping it from Jarvan's grasp. He tutted the prince softly, wagging the barrel of the pistol in front of Jarvan's face.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes, prince?" The man mused, looking over the prince. "So cold and icy, vicious. The eyes of a purebred killer. A pity."
"You're... a... bastard..." Jarvan muttered between gasps and groans of pain. "Go fuck yo—AHHHHHHH!" The man drove the barrel of the pistol down into the hole in Jarvan's side where the bullet had passed through him. He wormed the barrel about, his smile growing as he watched the prince writhe in pain.
"You've got a surprising amount of fight in you, considering your extensive injuries..." Lambert mused, grinning. "I like that in a man. It makes breaking them fun." He moved his gun about again. "Let's see if I can get these walls to disappear..." He pushed the barrel deeper, the prince screaming again, the walls collapsing around them. "How convenie-..." A horse galloped past as the walls crumbled away and Lambert had to roll away as a sword swung past, aimed for his head. "Fucking..." He snarled, getting to his feet. He looked around as he sheathed his sword and then picked his crossbow up from the snow, placing a bolt onto the action from a metal container on his waist. His gauntlet shimmered with blue power, the metal imbued with a dark energy that hummed greedily. He raised it up and took aim as the horse stamped to a stop, turning slightly. The sergeant major had his sword in one hand, the reigns in the other. Delancey was seated in front of him, holding onto the horse for dear life.
"Your highness!" The horse stamped impatiently at the ground. Jarvan grabbed at Lambert's bow, the officer growled as he struck the prince across the face, sending him tumbling back down to the ground.
"Del! Argus! Go!" Jarvan shouted, but the man put his boot down on the prince's side. The prince writhed about, shouting in pain.
"Stupid motherfucker!" Lambert snarled. He brought his crossbow up as the sergeant major turned and kicked the horse into a gallop, making a break for the tree line. The crossbow fired and the officer frowned, watching the horse continue to gallop away. A smile slowly spread over his face as he kneeled back down, grabbing Jarvan by the hair and hauling him up into a sitting position to watch. "Wait for it..." The sergeant major slumped and fell from the horse, his body hitting the ground and rolling. It came to a rolling halt on the ground, the sergeant major slumped in a heap on the ground. "Bingo!" He chuckled happily as pulled Jarvan up to face him. "What do you say to that, pri—fuck!"
Jarvan drove a combat knife into Lambert's thigh. He threw Jarvan aside, backing away as he ripped the shimmering blue-steel knife from his leg. He looked at the blade and cast it aside as Jarvan pulled himself to his feet with his lance. The prince was struggling to stay standing as blood poured from his side and shoulder. His breathing was ragged and weak, and his stance was crooked, all of his weight on his left leg, blood still pouring from his right. "Burn in hell."
"I'm surprised you can even move, much less fight." The officer muttered as he picked himself up and brought his sword back out, licking his split lip. "Your stamina and fortitude and commendable." He raised his sword above his head as he stepped in, the blade humming in bloodlust. "But enough is enough!" Jarvan snarled as he raised one arm up, catching the blade in the talons that lined his vambrace. He twisted his arm about, locking it in place, holding it tight. Lambert's eyes bulged in surprise for a moment as he tugged against the blade, his mouth working for a moment as Jarvan grinned, glaring at the man.
"That's a cute trick... got any others?" The man growled, smirking.
"Yeah, I've got a few." Jarvan spat back weakly. He twisted his arm further around, ripping his arm down and jerking the blade from his hand, sending it skittering away, disappearing beneath the snow. Jarvan cocked his good arm back as he spun and slammed a hammer blow down onto Lambert's chest, sending the man staggering backwards. Jarvan ducked down below the man's wild haymaker as he went for another blade, leading his vambrace upwards led by his elbow, gashing the man across the chest.
"You fuck!" Lambert snarled, clutching his chest as he staggered backwards, gasping for breath, the blood dripping from the gash in his chest steaming as it hit the cool air. He looked down at the wound and snarled, turning and starting away from the battle. "Keep me covered! I need to patch this up!" He roared through clenched teeth. "Jaeger, you've got command!" His subordinate nodded and waved the men forward, charging forward towards the wounded prince.
"Forsythe!" Jarvan shouted, as he raised his lance and swung wildly at a soldier, catching the man in the side of the chest and knocking him away. "Get the sergeant major to safety!"
"What?!" Forsythe snarled, looking over his shoulder as he brought his ax down onto the shoulder of a soldier, his collar bone cracking as blood sprayed out. "What happened to...FUCK!" He spun and kicked the corpse he had just dealt with away, scrambling. "Go! Jarvan, I got the sergeant major!"
Forsythe sprinted forward, bringing his ax down and across his body with a single hand, literally disarming one of the men that stood between him and the sergeant major. He stepped over the body and spun, bringing the ax up from the bottom of the hilt, landing a kick on the first man that sent his body crashing into the second. The man looked stunned as he clutched the screaming man's shoulders, watching as blood sprayed from the stumps of limbs he had left. He started to push the man off but Forsythe had already followed through, bringing the ax up and across his body, swinging it in a massive uppercut that caught the man under the chin. His head exploded as Forsythe shouldered past and dropped to the ground next to the sergeant major. "Quinn, cover!"
"On it!" She shouted, putting a pair of bolts into a man that rose up next to Forsythe, one arm missing, a knife clutched in his other hand. The body crashed down onto the corporal and he simply shrugged it off as he tended to the sergeant major's wounds. She spun and raised her crossbow, the weapon clicking empty. "Valor!"
The eagle shrieked and descended, gashing a man's face as he tried to charge. Quinn slid to a stop next to Forsythe, ripping a bolt from the dead man's chest and pushing it into her crossbow. She spun and fired the weapon as the man finally managed to beat the bird off. The man stood over her, his weapon raised over her head. The body collapsed, the bolt protruding from his eye.
"I got the sergeant major!" Forsythe shouted. "Let's get back to the forge!"
"Do it!" Jarvan snarled. "I'll buy you some time!"
"You're injured, Jarvan!" Quinn shouted as she pushed another used bolt into her weapon. The prince was wild eyed as he cut another soldier down, the blood splattering across his chest as he spun, his leg buckling and sending him to one knee as he brought his weapon up and knocked a soldier's weapon away.
"Quinn!" Jarvan shouted, grabbing his lance and sweeping it through the snow, as men turned on him, sending up a sheet of sparkling white that crashed towards the charging men like a wave from the ocean. Shouts came from the men in black as they batted the snow away as it stung their eyes and whipped their faces, carried by a sharp blast of wind. "Go after the leader! Don't let him get away!"
"But what about you?" Quinn shouted back as she rolled away from the sword swipe of one of the Noxian infiltrators, lashing out with a boot and sending the would be attacker reeling backwards down the embankment as she brought her crossbow to bear again. The thunk of the bolt landing in his chest was followed by the gurgle of blood rising in his throat and the eerie lack of sound as his body hit the snow covered ground. Quinn picked herself up and looked to Jarvan and then the others.
"Go!" Jarvan bellowed. "If he gets away then it's all for naught!" The young woman glared at the prince for a brief moment before she nodded once, spun and disappeared into the trees after the Noxian leader. Jarvan watched her go, turning his attention back to Forsythe.
"How is the sergeant major?" Jarvan spun on his knee and triggered his lance, the weapon ripping itself from his grasp. One end dug into the ground and the other caught a charging soldier in the shoulder and impaled him, flinging him backwards. Jarvan hit the trigger again and the weapon retracted, jerked from the man's chest as leaving him in a leaking pile on the ground.
"He's stabilized for now." Forsythe barked. "Nothing more we can do here." He growled in anger, dropping the sergeant major behind the embankment. He avoided looking at Constantin's body where it lay upon the ground. "They got reinforcements inbound, sir!" Forsythe pointed to where more men filtered out of the forest. "Looks like the perimeter guard, maybe ten or twelve in number."
"Can we move him?" Jarvan spat as he limped over the embankement. He dropped, ducking a crossbow bolt, the whistle of the arrow passing just over his shoulder. He snarled, watching the user of the weapon curse and reposition, running in a circular motion around the encampment. He slid to a stop at the bottom of the muddy slope, gripping his side and groaning in pain.
"Not likely." Forsythe said, looking back over his shoulder towards the embankment. "We've taken down more than half their number, but there are still a lot left..." He looked to the prince and frowned. "And you're in no position to be fighting, now."
"Yeah." Jarvan wheezed, breathing heavily.
"Maybe we should just surrender, boss." Forsythe said, softly. "They killed Constantin, maybe they'll just let us go..."
"I doubt it." Jarvan said softly. He still held himself up with his lance, leaning heavily on the weapon as he looked over at the Forsythe. "What, you done already? Remember: Demacian's don't surrender."
"And I thought I was the mad one." Forsythe looked up at Jarvan with a thin grin.
Blood started to drip from his mouth.
"Forsythe?" Jarvan's eyes grew wide. "FORSYTHE!" The corporal fell face first into the snow, a sword sticking from his back. A Noxian in black stood over him, grinning. He put his boot on Forsythe's back, ripping the blade free, blood dripping along the fuller and into the snow.
"Good riddance." The soldier growled with a cruel grin. "Give it up, scum, your men are dead and you're surrounded. Soon as we track that little bitch with the crossbow down, we can get the hell out of this shit hole."
"You... you killed him..." Jarvan murmured softly, looking at Forsythe's body, his eyes dull and empty. "You killed... Forsythe..." Jarvan's voice was distant and detached. "You..."
"Shut up and die." The Noxian snapped, barking a short laugh. The remaining handful of men slowly approached, their weapons held ready, all aimed at the prince.
"They're all dead..." Jarvan said softly. "Exemplar company is... gone..."
The ground began to tremble softly underfoot. Snow had been drifting down from the trees above now froze in the air, hanging mid-air like it was suspended in time. Electricity cracked around the prince, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. Jarvan screamed, letting his head hang back as his shield exploded around him, the golden energy surging outward uncontrollably. It struck the men around him like a solid wall, lifting them up and tossing them about, sending them crashing to the ground from the sheer force of the wall of golden energy. It crushed the ground beneath the prince, a circular crater getting ripped violently in the ground. The sphere expanded and caught one of the soldier's legs. It snapped, the limb getting flattened between the golden orb of pure energy and the ground.
"What did you... What did you do..." The man who had stabbed Forsythe gasped, gripping at his chest as he struggled to turn. His movements were slowed and drawn out. "I can barely breathe..."
"You killed them all..." Jarvan murmured, his eyes wild and distant. The four others that had surrounded him had gone silent, the life crushed out of them, blood leaking from their mouths, ears noses, and eyes, their bodies crushed flat. The last man looked terrified as Jarvan stood over him with wild eyes now focused on him. Jarvan reached down and picked him up by the collar with his good arm.
"Perhaps you'd like to explain this..." Jarvan hissed, glaring at the man as he lifted him into the air with a single hand. "You tried to kill me, you killed two of my men, killed the smithy and now you've got nothing left." Jarvan growled as the man snarled and struggled. Jarvan's useless arm hung at his side, and blood still poured from his chest, leg and side. "I refuse to die! I refuse to go down until you tell me what is happening! Tell me why you're here! Now!" He applied pressure to the man's collar and his face started to turn blue. "Speak! Before I kill you!"
"You really don't know?" The man laughed, coughing and grinning cruelly. "Well then, that's all I needed to know!"
"What?!" Jarvan hissed, bringing the man closer to his face. "What do you mean that's all YOU needed to know?"
"Heh." The man grinned. He moved his jaw about, lining up two odd teeth. "I'll see you in hell, prince."
What? Jarvan blinked once as his blood ran ice cold. The man dressed in black bit down, a crunching sound echoing from his mouth.
Jarvan tossed him away as he summoned his lightshield, watching as the man's body billowed and exploded outwards. Jarvan watched as his barrier flickered as failed, and though it had blocked the largest part of the blast, he was lifted and tossed away by the shock wave, hitting the ground and bouncing once before the world around him turned black.
...
Darkness filled the prince's vision for a few moments. He opened his eyes, wondering if the fall he had taken had him seeing things. The fuzz that had settled over his vision started to fade and he realized he wasn't seeing things. A green haze filled his vision as the man before him corked a small bottle, tossing it over his shoulder, cracking a grin as the tinkle of broken glass sounded through the ringing that finally started to die. "Lee?" Jarvan asked groggily as he tried to sit up.
"Ah, ah, ah." Lee tutted softly, wagging a finger in front of Jarvan's nose. "I wouldn't move if I were you, prince, your abdominal wounds are bad: too much more movement and you might just bleed out."
"What are you doing here, traitor?" Jarvan snarled, the venom lost in his wheezing.
"Traitor?" Lee stammered, touching his knife wielding hand to his chest. "Why, Prince Jarvan, I'm hurt. After I served you so loyally, I saved your life multiple times and this is how you treat me?"
"What do you want then?" Jarvan growled, again trying to sound menacing. The sound gurgled in his throat, the taste of copper burning his lips.
"Isn't it customary to thank your rescuer when they save your life?" Lee laughed aloud. Jarvan blinked several times, watching the man's easy smile and black hair bob as he kneeled down next to the prince. Jarvan narrowed his eyes as the man's face seemed to shimmer. "Alas, I haven't been fully truthful with you." He sighed softly, as if he were tired of explaining something to a small child. He looked about, frowning as the groans of men moving slowly could be heard even over the ringing in Jarvan's ears. "The explosion was violent enough to knock most of the remaining Noxians out, and it even incinerated another soldier. I always admired Lambert and his men for their blind dedication. We should have a little time before we're interrupted again."
"How..." Jarvan murmured, his voice gurgling softly. "How do you know that name?"
Jarvan had to blink several times to ensure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him as the man's face slowly began to change. The brow narrowed slightly, and the skin tone lightened. The hair lengthened and his cheekbones broadened. Emerald green eyes and long red hair characterized the face that looked down at him, an easy smile on the man's face as he kneeled next to the prince. He tapped a knife into the palm of his hand and brushed a few locks of red hair from his face before he smiled again. "It does feel good to finally let the wind hit my face. That damn magical charm is so stifling."
"Wait," Jarvan muttered, again blinking to ensure he wasn't seeing things. "Who are you?"
"Ah, but I am the man you've come to know as Lee!" The man said, again offering the prince an easy smile. "I could be offended that you don't recognize me, but I think I'll give you a benefit of the doubt." The man sighed again, shrugging his shoulders in a showy fashion. "Lucky for you, I need your help. It's an unfortunate thing, really, but the Black Rose has out stepped their bounds and they threaten your nation's wellbeing as well as my own. My daughter would have been my first choice for something like this, but out of fear for her safety, I was forced into more... drastic measures."
"Your daughter?" Jarvan said, his eyes going wide as he finally realized who the hair and eyes reminded him off. He mentally placed a scar over the left eye and got rid of the beard, his voice getting caught in his throat. "That means... you're..."
The man smiled in a manner that could have frozen ice as he bowed to the injured prince. "General Marcus Du Couteau. The pleasure is all mine, Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV."