NOTE: Please remember to keep all Out of Character (OOC) posts out of this thread. The chapter threads are strictly for story posts. All OOC discussions can be had here: http://na.leagueoflegends.com/board/showthread.php?t=1588857 with one exception. Reds are allowed to post in this thread to get us on the DevTracker!
Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! This week's chapter post is a short one since I'll be doing a fair amount of In-Character posting with the Morello hunting party.
The Riot War – Chapter 9 – The Maw of Nerfblivion
The rumble from the dropship’s engines was hypnotizing – a white noise that served to distract the passengers from the true gravity of their mission. Together they sat, those brave warriors of the IsC who had willingly volunteered to follow a stranger into the wilds knowing that their own survival was far from a guarantee. They had been handpicked by the Grand Marshall himself to travel with the mysterious and unreasonably good-looking scribe, Sagarys, on a mission to find and kill the dark lord, Morello, before he could harness a power that would no doubt spell the end of the known world. Given ample opportunities to decline the mission, these five – Night, Chorr, Sleiphner, Phalonax, and Ambearsador Soupcup – chose to go, to fight, and hopefully, to save their Realm from an awful fate of fire and shadow.
Together, with the Sagarys, the five waited quietly in the cramped, dark passenger compartment of the IsC dropship that the Grand Marshall had supplied them with. The time for conversation had passed. They were close. As the companions sat patiently, suddenly the dropship began to shake, subtly at first, but then quite violently a few moments later.
“We seem to be encountering some turbulence,” came the crackling voice of the pilot over the intercom.
“Thank you. We were unaware,” Sagarys replied wryly to no one in particular.
The dropship continued to rattle for several minutes, the turbulence gradually becoming worse the further they went. Finally, it got so bad that the pilot came on the intercom again.
“This is as close as we can get you,” he said. “Our sensors are going nuts. All our electronics are jamming up and shutting down intermittently. If we go any farther, this bird might drop like a rock. We’re putting it down here.”
The passengers exchanged concerned glances then looked to Sagarys for guidance.
“You heard him,” Sagarys said, sensing the curious eyes of his companions. “We make the rest of the journey on foot. Hope you brought a sweater.”
As Sagarys finished, the dropship touched down hard, sending a jolt through the frame, jarring the companions. A moment later, hydraulics hissed and the door swung open, letting a burst frigid wind and snow curl in. The six passengers gathered their things and filed out quickly. Once the last of them was clear, Sagarys banged on the hull. With that, the door swung shut, the engines powered up, and the dropship lifted off. The companions watched as it disappeared above the forest canopy and roared off back to the Albion.
Without a word, Sagarys started off, heading east, and his companions followed. The air was bitter cold – almost unnaturally so – the snow was deep, and the woods were thick. Together, they marched for hours through the wilderness, no one uttering a single word. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the forest, the fierce cold deepened. Then finally, as darkness fell upon the land and the companions were nearing exhaustion, Sagarys stopped. Just ahead was a treeline that opened up into a small, hilly clearing with a rocky outcropping in the center.
“There,” Sagarys said, pointing to the clearing.
The Ambearsador began moving, but Sagarys lifted an arm and held him back.
“Wait,” Sagarys whispered, his tone suddenly laden with concern. He kneeled down and signaled for his companions to do the same. “We are not alone.”
Sagarys pointed to footprints in the snow. The tracks were fresh.
Someone was lurking nearby.
The war room of the Black Keep was bustling. Word had come down that Zileas had recovered from the IsC’s chemical attack. The Troll Wizard had called a meeting of his closest allies. Waiting in the dimly lit, circular room were the leaders of powerful kingdoms that had chosen to align themselves with the Troll Wizard against the Brotherhood and the IsC – Xypherous, Kitae, and Maxtion Hero.
Discussing amongst themselves, they waited patiently, their guards and aids standing around them. But when the door swung open, a hush came over them. A handful of high ranking purple minions shuffled into the war room and when they parted, the Troll Wizard himself stood at the threshold, a wicked, trollface grin spread across his wicked troll face.
“Gather your forces,” Zileas said. “March them to the Black Keep. No one drugs me except me! The bird-brains and the fur-balls are going to pay! The Anti-Fun Agenda is going to war!”
A cheer rose up, echoing through the halls of the keep. It could be heard for miles.
"Wait," said a purple caster minion. "Zileas, we are at war."
Zileas stopped and turned to glare at the minion.
"What?" he barked.
"W-well," the minion stuttered, "You ordered the Warden to send an army to Parrotopia about a week or two ago..."
"Why don't I remember this?" Zileas asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Drugs," the minion replied.
"Oh right..." Zileas remembered. Then he turned and raised his arms to address the war room again. "Well then, summon the Warden so that I may speak with him about our attack plans!"
"A-actually, sir," the minion interjected again, tugging on Zileas' robe.
"What now?" snapped the infuriated Troll Wizard.
"Well..." the minion began to reply. "...you already sent the Warden to Mt. McHuge Large to find you some cereal."
"Mt. McHuge Large," Zileas muttered, his face twisted in confusion. "WTF is that? And why would I send him on a quest for cereal?"
The minion shrugged. Zileas paused for a moment to think, placing a finger on his lips.
"I believe we may need to regroup and get our plans in order before we proceed..." he mumbled after some time. Then he turned, once again to address the war room. "Soon, the Anti-Fun Agenda will CONTINUE to go to war!"
Another cheer rose up.
Then, for good measure, Zileas stabbed the purple caster minion to death for correcting him in front of his friends.