Riven would never admit it, but Councilor Gyro had gotten to her. As much as she tried to justify the Noxian High Command, the poster child was faltering. She couldn't convince herself that the numerous slaughters she had partaken in made anyone stronger. The more she thought about it the weaker her resolve became.
The faces of those she had slain, not soldiers, but the innocent. The children. How the children bothered her. It's not like they were weak. They were simply ignorant of the right way according to her beliefs. Even the adults in her mind were nothing more than ignorant citizens; often times she pitied them. By no means did it waver her loyalty to Noxus. Noxus would never betray her. After all she was strong and Noxus valued strength above all else.
She was pulled out of her troubled thoughts as she approached Sunset Valley. Sunset Valley really wasn't the actual name. It was a name Swain came up with himself. The Ionians called it Coeur Valley. A young officer stood in front of her.
The man briefly saluted with a fist firmly placed against his chest and then slackened as she made eye contact with him. The man wore a mail coif over his head that allowed a sliver of his dark brown hair, typical of Noxians, to poke out from under the chain mail.
Compared to Riven's dark olive green plate armor the man looked near pathetic. Then again most weren't chosen to represent the ideal Noxian.
Finally the man began, "Sir… err. Mam-"
"Riven."
"The scouts seemed to have encountered a lot more resistance than they led on. The valley witnessed a rather large battle. Over four hundred Ionians litter the field. It seems they were devastated by the Scout force."
Riven frowned. The scouts would never lie about a kill count. It made no sense. If anything they would overestimate the count. Plus, Riven knew the man charged with the scout force. Talon was not a man to lie about something as trivial as Ionian death count.
"Hmm… Are there any other Noxian forces in the area?" Riven asked. She was already sure that the nearest force was days away and it was hindered with a division of Zaunite artillery. She nearly snarled thinking of the cowardly weapons.
"No Mam, The nearest force should be 22nd battalion and they march behind us at a safe pace to keep the Zaunite artillery safe."
Riven sighed at the man's formality. It was common place as a sign of respect, she knew, but she liked her real name much more than a single syllable.
Riven decided to put her men on high alert as they entered the valley. A strange feeling crept up her spine. This valley meant trouble and she knew it.
They passed several refugees on the way through the valley. Riven let them slide not wanting to deal with the minor nuisance. After all they were fleeing the country and to her, so long as they left, she could care less.
She overheard numerous whispers. Many would mumble as they saw her to those around her and she could have sworn one man said, "It is her. The poster child. The rumors are true."
To Riven it meant nothing. Who cares if they know that she would be the conqueror of their abandoned home? Perhaps if she wasn't so distracted with the officers report she would have noticed the blades and weapons many of the refugees hid in the folds of their clothing.
She pressed her men forward. As they reached the center of the valley she gave the order to break for the night. The sun was just barely dipping below the horizon.
That night the fires roared and the men feasted. Perhaps, Riven thought to herself, they too felt as though they neared their final battle. Riven didn't join in their festivities. She rarely ate before battle often times she would even avoid alcohol. She valued clarity and both things could damage her strength.
She woke well before the sun. She summoned her forces and within the hour her company was marching down the valley a thick veil of danger draped around them. The fog seemed foreboding and reduced visibility to several meters.
Riven found her grip on her sword whitening her knuckles and she had to constantly remind herself to loosen up. She despised the feeling. The games that seemed to being played frustrated her. She much preferred a straight forward approach where there was a clear victor and a clear loser. She liked there to be a clear enemy and an honorable fight.
Despite her caution, she never saw it coming. As they reached the end of the Sunset Valley a line of heavily armored Ionian warriors stood and blocked the road. They held giant shields and long pikes.
Every instinct in Riven's body screamed trap. "Ambush! Battle formations!" She yelled. Even as her cry rose into the silent dawn air she heard the roar of hundreds of battle cries. The sound was deafening and to her horror it was equaled by the pounding of feet.
The Noxians formed into a large box three ranks of men thick. Spears and halberds were brandished from behind the impressive shield wall.
Out of the fog like banshees, the Ionians charged. Wisps of cloud rolled off their flailing limbs shrouding them in an intimidating cloak of gray. Arrows and crossbow bolts sailed into the Noxian formation. The men raised their shields and did their best to protect themselves and each other. Then the elite Ionian forces engaged.
Riven was not a coward by any means. She stood in the front rank of her soldiers relying on her massive blade and impressive armor to protect her from archers. This fight was the first fight she was unsure of the outcome. She reveled in the battle. A true show of strength by both sides; where the strong would leave victorious.
She brandished her sword and encouraged her men with commanding shouts. To Rivens disappoint it soon grew obvious that despite the Noxians superior skill in combat the Ionians had the advantage of numbers. Their elite forces dashed in and out of the fray rarely endangering themselves to weaken the Noxian's valiant defense.
As the square broke down into a circle and grew tighter and tighter Riven was forced to locate her emergency courier. The "courier" was really a spell caster. Of course having such persons in your army was extremely illegal and easily could result in an unfavorable interaction with the institute of war; however, most countries found it necessary in times of great need and managed to slip them in here and there.
She found the woman she was looking for. "Darle, I need you to contact the 22nd battalion immediately. We need reinforcements desperately to win this fight favorably."
Darle was prohibited from actually using magical attacks and she was armed with a longbow. Her leather armor was nearly black and matched her hair and eyes. Overall the woman was strong willed and commanded a certain amount of respect from Riven despite her despicable use of the arcane arts.
Darle closed her eyes for what seemed like an eternity to Riven and said, "We will receive immediate aid."
Riven's eyes widened in surprise. The 22nd must have moved quickly to gain on her men so quickly. It seemed impossible that they would receive any sort of aid at all. She had expected a fight to the death order.
An arrow whizzing over her shoulder brought her out of her mental tangent. Many men and women had died on both sides. A true battle. With her massive sword she plunged into the fray. Blood spattered her armor, yet she remained nearly unscathed.
With a quick slash she nearly cut the Ionian in front of her in half. His entrails leaked out of the wound. With each swing she felt more invigorated. A powerful overhead cleave decapitated one man and slashed deep into another's chest.
She was a whirlwind of death. Her massive sword was able to break through weapons and crush through the strongest armor. Every hit she landed elicited a groan or more often a scream of agony.
She was able to mute the sounds. She was a soldier performing her duty to her country, and she was determined to do her job well.
Riven slowly grew tired. She had never fought so continuously or so vigorously and it was taking its toll on her body despite her amazing strength and will.
She began to slow. Her swings barely parrying aside stray blades. Her attacks became clumsy and she found herself simply aiming to hit the blow.
Riven saw it before she truly saw it. A green streak in the air overhead followed by the roar of a powerful explosion revealed its presence. She could recognize the sound anywhere. Zaunite war machines. The weapons were massive wheeled siege vehicles. They were capable of using a variety of ammo types from solid to gas. The crater in the battlefield soon created a cloud of toxic gas. Noxians and Ionians alike within the cloud began spewing their stomachs contents.
As the effects of the toxin truly settled in they began clawing their own faces and shredding their skin. Horrible screams echoed across the battlefield. Riven stopped fighting in shock. Everyone else had as well. The battlefield transformed.
No longer did the soldiers fight. They fled. Riven fled as well. The vile projectile soon covered the Valley's end. The screams of the dying echoed into the mid-day. The sky itself was blotted out as the toxic fumes clogged the sky.
Suddenly Riven was heaved off her feat and the ground shook around her. She rolled across the rocky floor and crawled forward standing up as she continued running. The man next to her sprinted ahead, running for his life.
He died instantly. His body shattered into pieces as massive rock stuffed full of chemicals careened into him. Riven was doused in his blood. Then the chemicals hit her. They burnt her skin. Her wrists and hands felt like ants crawled underneath her skin.
Despite her best efforts she was compelled to claw her skin away and did so viciously reveling in the relief that came with the loss of her skin. She retched constantly; spitting acid. Still, somehow, she ran. Clawing her body all the while as if it were on fire she screamed.
In a frenzy she ripped off random pieces of her armor tearing at her clothing underneath in a mad craze. Eventually the world quieted. Her forearms and hands were a bloody mess, but the effects of the toxin seemed to be relieved and exiting her system.
One last time she retched the feeble contents of her stomach. Her throat burned intensely and each breath of fresh air tore her lungs creating a fresh spike of pain. She curled into a ball, forehead to her knees arms wrapped around her thighs and slowly rocked back and forth.