Rise of the Darkin:4

Chapter 3: The TRifarix When the Noxian guards finally came to take us before the leaders of Noxus, Ryze has caught me up on the Darkin situation. There is no known way to destroy the Weapons, Therefore the Darkin cannot be killed. Though I am wondering how the heck we’re supposed to stop these things I continue to listen to Ryze go on about the need for allies. My thoughts drift to Lux, to her golden hair, her sunny smile, her beautiful laugh, Annnnnd I just missed three whole sentences of Ryze’s monologue. Then the Noxians arrive. They open the door very carefully, as if we were rabid beasts that needed to be corralled in another pen. The cold stone resonates with our footsteps as they force us out of the cell, handcuffed of course, The dullness of Petricite leaves my body at last as we Leave the cell behind. We take many twists and turns to get to the main level of the Immortal Bastion. As we walk up a set of ancient stairs that look like their one step from the grindstone, the sunlight blinds me. How long have we been underground? I pause in hesitation, not willing to walk into something I can’t see, for this I am pushed forward by the wooden end of an Axe. I stumble, trying not to fall flat on my face as I try to regain my balance. “Move” says the Noxian in a gruff voice. It’s the first word I’ve heard him speak, and I suspect it will be the last. I trudge onward, my eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. Eventually we reach the main room. The guards shove us through the door before coming in after us, Locking the door in an instant. Their armor glints evilly in the sunlight that comes through the meager windows. Massive axes rest in their hands, Looking plenty sharp to an observer. The first thing anyone saw as they entered the audience chamber was the throne of the old Noxian emperors. It was an immense thing, carved of obsidian, blunt and angular, and the innumerable hanging banners, sharply angled pillars, and the burning sconces all worked to direct the eye back toward it. It dominated the space entirely. The throne sat empty, however, as it had since the previous Grand General of Noxus had been executed. No emperor for Noxus, no tyrant upon the throne. Not any longer. The three were deep in discussion, but they ceased their talk as the Mages came towards them. They were seated in a row, facing the approaching envoys like a silent panel of judgement. I hear a raven cawing in the distance, An omen perhaps? Nah. In the center, keen-eyed and unblinking, sat Jericho Swain—the renowned visionary, the new Grand General. Some of my clients still call him a usurper, since it was he who had dragged the madman Boram Darkwill from the throne of Noxus, but none of them said it to his face.
His gaze, which seemed to see too much, bore’s first into Ryze, and then turns to me, A chill shoots up my spine as his predatory features examine me. His eyes linger on me gauntlet. I resist the Urge to stare at the sleeve of his left arm, tucked within his Dark coat. He had had it cut off during the failed invasion of Ionia. The leader of the resistance had done it herself. To his right sits Darius, the legendary Hand of Noxus, leader of the elite Trifarian Legion, and now commander of all the empire’s armies. He was the embodiment of might itself; where Swain sits rigidly upright, Darius slouches back, the fingers of one gauntleted hand drumming a steady tattoo upon the wooden armrest of his chair. His arms are massive, his expression hard. The third figure—only ever referred to as “the Faceless”—was a mystery. This individual sat unmoving, bedecked from head to toe in a many-layered, voluminous robe. They wear a blank, staring, glossy-black mask, and even the eye-holes are obscured with dark mesh, giving away nothing as to their identity. A barely perceptible inclination of the chin from Darius dismisses the legionaries that had escorted us in. The two warriors slam their armored fists to their breastplates in salute, and retreat through the massive doors. I hear the clank of the lock as the doors are sealed once more. “Sit, please,” says Swain, indicating the chairs opposite. Ryze seems uneasy but we both sit in the simple chairs. An uneasy thought comes into my head, what if they think we were creating the sandstorm on purpose? They would see us as dissenters, and I hate to think what they would do to us. Why would the soldiers leave these leaders unguarded, when they clearly view us as dangerous? Why else would they put us in the petricite cell? The only producer of petricite is Demacia, and Noxian relations with Demacia have always been strained. Petricite is limited here in Noxus. “you do realize that you have caused Dozens of deaths and Hundreds of thousands of units of Damage.” Swain states his voice cultured and fine. “you have also damaged relations with the Nations whose merchants were present” continues Darius. The faceless says nothing, seeming to watch me closely. I decide to lie. “I wasn’t involved” I claim. A chill shoots up my spine as swain watches me closer. “I actually destroyed the artifact that caused the storm” I continue, okay this one is not a lie, I actually did destroy the tablet. Swain begins to take his hand out of his coat. What is he going to do, Wave his stump at me? Another chill makes its way down my spine. A raven caws in the distance, chilling my soul. Darius has ceased the incessant tapping of his fingers, as if he is nervous. Swain fully takes his left arm out of his coat, and what I see horrifies me. Instead of a useless stump, swains left hand looks nothing like a human hand. It glows an evil red, dark and ominous. The size dwarfs his other hand, outsizing even his arm, If I did not know that swain had no left hand, I would have sworn in was a gauntlet. The fingers of it are more like the claws of a raven than human fingers. And its pointing right at me “lie to me again boy, and you will discover just how much agony Demonic magic can produce.” Swain states coldly, clearly seeing through my lie. I stare at the thing that is pointing at me, Horror infecting every aspect of my body. I decide to tell the truth “I didn’t know the tablet was cursed.” I stammer. Swain lowers his abomination of a hand. Clearly satisfied with my answer. Darius seems uneasy and even the faceless is agitated, the heavy robes shifting as the person behind the mask shifts in their seat, uneasy. Suddenly the hand shoots up and in an instant horror invades my body once more, as my life flashes before my eyes I wish that I had never taken the deal with Ryze. But swain is not pointing at me, His hand glows and what appears to be a bird falls from the ceiling. The bird is a small hawk, and not native to the area. It is writhing in pain. Now I am glad I told the truth to swain. Swains hand glows again and the hawk transforms into a person. His Clothes are simple, Obviously Demacian, and he Definitely is not supposed to be here. The man tries to run, but his leg was broken in the fall. He is terrified, His panicked expression clearly showing this. A blast of energy shoots from swains’ hand, and the spy is left with a crater in his chest from the demonic energy. I can’t believe that there could be a spy this deep into the immortal bastion. The air seems tainted by the demonic magic. Swain seems calm, Though he breaths quicker than before. He once again Raises his hand. Something seems to form above the dead man’s body, drawing something from the corpse. It moves silently toward the table where we all are seated. It hovers above the center of the table, swain making motions with his hand to control it. The orb reshapes itself to form a scene. Two men are talking, one of them is the newly deceased spy, the other appears to be a Demacian general. The general is giving orders to the spy. As the scene fades into nothingness, I realize what the orb was. A fragment of the spy’s soul. The chilling feeling returns. Ryze isn’t looking too good. Obviously, the knockout didn’t sit too well with him. He also doesn’t seem to be a fan of Swains demonic hand. He glances at me with a look of accusing Malice. Does he blame me for the situation we’re in? He was the one who offered to buy the cursed relic. “You should explain your reasoning behind bringing the artifact that created the sandstorm.” Swain says, his voice uncompromising and emotionless. “It happened to kill dozens of people, destroy several buildings and fracture relationships with other nations”. Now I can see the predicament I’ve gotten us into, that sandstorm was pretty destructive, and now were the ones holding the bill for its killing spree. “Ryze here hired me to retrieve the stone tablet from shurima.” I say, catching another angry look from Ryze. Swain raises an eyebrow “I am sure you were perfectly aware of the curse on this carving Ryze, as you happen to be an expert on these sorts of things, considering your long lifespan of a thousand years.” Swain states coldly. My mouth drops open, Ryze is a thousand years old? He looks like he’s a late 40. Ryzes mouth is also hanging open, as if he didn’t expect anyone to guess his age. Swain makes a dismissive gesture, though both Darius and The Faceless seem surprised (or the faceless seemed to seem surprised, you can never tell with them). “I’ll have you know that rune magic happens to be outlawed in this nation for the last thousand years” it isn’t swain that says this, but Darius. He hasn’t said a word this entire time, and now he points out Ryze’s forbidden magic? “fortunately for you, the original law has been lost, so we aren’t going to press the matter”. He grumbled something about Unnecessary Complexities under his breath. “ With demonic Magic is quite easy to determine both of your pasts” swain states coolly. So that’s where my headache came from. Not the creepy Nightmare demon, but swains Demon magic. “you Ryze, were born in the Village of Khom, in 19 BRW.” I gaze at Ryze, shocked at how old he is. That’s… over 1120 years ago. “when you were 15 years of age you were apprenticed to a sorcerer named Tyrus of Helia. A member of a now-dead order. When the World Runes were discovered, You and Tyrus traveled between the various peoples of Valoran, trying to quell paranoia and encourage restraint.” Swain pauses “but you failed, and the Rune wars began. Khom was annihilated by a World Rune-powered weapon, and you were forced to slay your own master at the age of 19 to prevent annihilation of the world by his hand’s” swain finished his monologue with a stern face, unblinking and devoid of emotion. Well that was bizarre. Ryze’s entire past lay bare by a complete stranger. I’ll have to ask Ryze about the whole “how he is a thousand years old” thing, but for now I’m just shocked. Okay and a little relieved that he didn’t do the same thing to me. “now you Ezreal, have had a shorter life, but still interesting” says swain still emotionless Oh god no “you were born in a wealthy district of piltover to two renowned archaeologists, in your youth you were often left in the care of your uncle, professor Lymere during your parents travels.” This is so embarrassing, He is putting my life on a plate. I have no doubt that Ryze is going to hold this against me. “As you grew older your uncle shoved tutor after tutor upon you. But you Absorbed all the information they taught you effortlessly, infuriating your uncle and giving you plenty of free time.” Swain continues, please make it stop, how did he get so much information on me? It’s not like my information is in the public records… oh wait. “you were entranced by your parents’ stories of their expeditions, and from a young age you were convinced that you were going to explore Unknown areas on maps like your parents. Their final journey was for the tomb of Ne’Zut, an ascended Shuriman Tyrant who could travel great distances instantly. Your father Joked that if he could learn whatever sorcery Ne’Zut had possessed, he would simply drop into Piltover for dinner each night.” This is so humiliating, my life laid bare for total strangers. Swain continues “it was on that trip that your parents disappeared, and you went after them and found the Gauntlet of Ne’Zut, which you wear today” Swain finally finishes his rampage of revealing my past. Why do these things always happen to me? I’m too handsome to be so unlucky. “Now for the punishment for your crimes” Swain says coldly, his eyes like a Ravens his Features predatory, His evil hand glowing menacingly, daring me to object to this unfair prosecution. Swain slips his demonic hand back into his coat, and I realize that I am lucky that I lived to see another sunrise after seeing that hand. “You killed many with that storm, cost over a hundred thousand in damage, however you claim that you had no knowledge of the curse on the artifact. For this you will each receive a sizeable fine, to cover for most of the damages, you are also required to leave Noxus for a total of Three months, Entering Noxus before the marked time will make your life forfeit, you will be executed at the first opportunity.” Swain pauses “do you find this acceptable Darius?” He asks. Darius seems to think it over “have the Blue one pay double for instigating the trade” he responds. Swain nods “that is acceptable”. A blind man could see that this is just another way of getting back at Ryze. “Here is the fine, for you Ryze it is A hundred thousand, For Ezreal Fifty thousand” Well it looks like I’m broke again