Of Silence and Scars, Chapter 28

The story is winding down now, and I am just wondering if anyone thinks it would be a good idea to post the whole story somewhere. I am simply wondering because the 28 chapters so far are spaced far in the boards and under different names. Let me know what you think or where fan fics are even posted. Thanks all for reading and commment below on the story if you have any comments :)

XXVIII The trek through the tundra was exhausting to say the least. Frigid air drove the air from weary lungs with each step. Draven brushed frost from his eyebrows as he contemplated his odds of making it through the night. The warriors of the Winter’s Claw were unphased. They were used to the long walks at the command of their near-fanatical leader to build strength and resolve. Sejuani rode, not flinching in the slightest as ice assailed her exposed flesh. Ahead peaks loomed to break the winds. The valley of Avarosa was milder due to their protection. Draven sigh with relief once they passed the threshold and the winds ceased. Howling gales fading into memory, the company emerged from the mouth of the valley. They saw their objective at last. Three camps sat at intervals around the city. A blockade, crude but effective. Sejuani dispersed scouts to discover their troop counts as she ordered the host of the force to rest while they could and get a small meal in before battle. The Noxians stuck together, and huddled around a fire rubbing numb limbs back into life. A stew brewed slowly over the fire. The murky brown liquid almost dispelled Draven’s hunger on sight, but the warmth was enough to convince him to eat it over his hesitations. His insides burned back into life and he cursed at the cold, dreaming once more of beaches and sunshine. An hour passed before the scouts returned. A meeting was called, detailing the fortifications of each camp. Sejuani divided the force into three teams to tackle each simultaneously and finally sent word to the city that they should attack with the first light of dawn. Katarina took the message, being the most adept at evading the guards of the blockade. She crept into the night as the hastily made camp was packed up once more and the teams split. Volibear led Draven’s team deep into the northern tree line. Darius stuck close to the Glorious Executioner, trying not to become separated. He needed to be sure his brother did not die from stupidity and recklessness. A great white paw raised, signaling a stop. The fighters crouched in the dense brush on the edge of a hill. On the bottom of the rise sat one of the camps. Outlines of various trolls and the Forged strolled in the night, but they were few in number, most must still be asleep. With mixed patience, they waited in silence for an eternity, watching the horizon for their signal. At last, tendrils of light lapped at the sky, cleaning away night’s dark shroud. Horns blew within the city beyond and the gates slowly opened. Battle formations marched in loose formation out to route the enemy without. The trolls roused themselves sleepily, not fully registering what was occurring. Volibear’s deafening roar pierced the air as he led the charge down the hill. Snow flying from under boots, the rush appeared to be an avalanche descending to the encampment. Pincered in and confused, the trolls failed to rally any real defense. Scattering to the forests where they could, a few escaped. The majority however were caught in the crossing waves of steel, teeth and arrows. Knocking aside the first ranks easily, Volibear tackled the largest troll he could find and began pummeling it with thundering blows. Tryndamere led the Avarosan garrison into battle with a fury to match that of the Ursine commander. Spinning and slashing wildly, troll bodies piled at his feet. Draven focused on the Forged opponents, cracking their crystal hides with repeated blows in rapid succession. He was one of the few soldiers equipped with a sufficient weapon that would not break on first strike. That didn’t make his task easy however, elongating their arms or weaponry, the Forged often closed the distance to him quickly. Draven dodged and danced around, whirling blades into the masses, hitting any weak points he could see. After only several minutes of confused battle, the fighting slowed, eventually halting entirely. Draven faced the last opponent, a larger than average crystal juggernaut. The bulbous fists on enlarged arms swung viscously at the swift Noxian. He ducked and weaved, eventually jumping and propelling himself into a backflip off of the monster’s chest with a kick. Reaching the ground he threw the Whirling Death in one motion, driving two deep tracks up the behemoth’s form. Stunned, but not bowed, it tried to take a step forward as Darius leapt from behind and split it in half with the Noxian Guillotine. Panting, Draven waved wearily at his brother, “Taking all the credit again eh? I had him on the ropes.” Darius’ breath came in rapid bursts, “Yea. Whatever. You’re welcome.” Punching Draven’s shoulder as he passed. The battle had been won. They moved on to the other camps to see if their assistance was needed. After the fighting calmed down, smoke rose into the early morning air. The blockade had ended, and Ashe thanked them for their help. Sejuani left with her to discuss what she had learned about Lissandra and their next move. The brothers walked out to the newly formed camp. They had six hours until they had to go to the rendezvous point for Swain. Draven stood looking into the distance at the edge of camp. Snow floated gently, resting in the fur mantle of the executioner. His arms crossed over his chest, he twirled one pointed end of his moustache in thought. Darius strode over, nudging him “We won. Take the win.” Draven scowled, “That was a small thing, Sona is still out there. I don’t even know if she’s… you know.” Darius thought for a moment, standing beside his brother, “You can’t beat yourself up about what you face before you face it. Why do its work for it? Going into a battle that worn and run down from your own mind games won’t help her any.” Seeing the other’s visage soften slightly he let the thought sink in. Lines ran tracks across the scarred face of the executioner. He was exhausted though he wouldn’t admit it. Darius wondered if he had slept at all since Sona disappeared. Seeing him fret over another person was a surreal experience. He had to ask, “Hey, answer me this…” Draven turned his head ever so slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the mountain far away. “… If Sona is still alive,” Draven cringed slightly at the implication. That stuck. Darius continued, “if it comes to it, how far would you go for her? Are you really going to die for this? I just want to know what you have thought it through, if anything. Planning isn’t your forte.” Draven remained silent for a while. Eyes fogging over as his gaze was past the mountains and into his own head. Musing the concept over for a long moment, he answered in a rasp whisper. “If that is what it takes.” “Draven, the glorious executioner, would die for anyone? You have said yourself that you are the most perfect warrior in existence and all life is simply inferior by default, but now you would die for her?” Draven snapped at him, “I know what I said fool. I happen to be the one who said it. And I am still right as always! It just needs clarifying.” He turned away and took several steps, wandering aimlessly, “people are vermin, and I am the king of all men past, present and future. No one can match the pure spectacle of my every syllable bursting forth into the word riding on the perfection of my voice!” Darius shook his head, this was going downhill fast. Then Draven spoke in a more solemn tone, “But Sona is not a person. She is an angel, exempt from my categorizing. I am no martyr or hero. I simply cannot think of days being as bright without her around. There. I said it. I’m going to go vomit to replace the taste of this moment in my mouth. Then my axes have a date with Lissandra’s spine, they are going out for a spin…” He chuckled menacingly with a manic look shining in his eyes. Darius stopped him as he passed with a hand, “Sona made me promise to keep you safe in the days to come. You know me and promises…” Draven shrugged him off, “Yea, you’re a fanatic. I get it. Since when did I need a babysitter?” Darius turned and followed him into the camp, “Since you act like a spoiled brat all the time.” The brothers strode back to the tents to try and get some rest before the final assault and the end of this madness. Draven thought of his vacation after this all, trying to escape the present, if only for a while.