Okay so I have been gone for quite some time, and here I am, back in the game. I decided to start up by doing some fanfiction, and I got stuck in this game called League of Legends, it is very dangerous, do not try it, you will get addicted. I then picked two characters and did this little story, it ended up being a lot longer than expected, so there will be a part 2, 3 and so on. Hope you enjoy anyways.
Edit: Okay the blog is bugging somehow, so I appologize in advance for the lack of split text. sowwy!
__________________________________
She gave a sigh and leaned backwards into her chair; the war was raging but the uncertainty which this battle had brought with it, would not give her rest.Her men were ready at her command, yet they had heard no word from the enemy lines yet, what were they waiting for? She rubbed her temples in anger, and arose from the chair to look at her maps again. "My Lady, we caught a spy" a soldier called from the tent entrance. She growled to the informer, curse it, a spy meant trickery, they were planning on winning by the means of tricks rather than strength. Even when odds were against her, Kayle never planned anything but honourable, just, warfare, and she always hoped for her opponent to do the same; yet never expected it out of sheer courtesy. The spy was a skinny, small man cloaked in black and forest green, to hide him from sentinels; and as he was thrown before her feet, inside her commands tent, Kayle felt almost pity for him; however that feeling vanished as she had to wipe his spit off her cheek. "We are too many, you will never win, you winged abomination! Some might call you an ange-" her commanding officer grabbed him by the hair before he could finish, and pressed a knife at his Adams apple. "still your tongue or loose it" he commanded in a tone that was not to be argued with. Kayle shook her head. "Tell me then, how many dare defy justice?" The spy waited for the knife to be removed before answering, "two hundred men from the Open Fist, a dozen Sunguards on horse and more than five hundred of the Fortune Company" he laughed then but Kayle frowned and the commander cut his throat before he could speak again. She felt uneasy about this information, with so many bought swords, they would not win this battle. She growled underneath her breath and returned to her maps again, her commander gave himself leave to speak "an obvious lie my Lady, they are trying to scare us away with words" she slammed her fists angrily into the table. "I will not let go of this one""I will not let go of this one" she said, determined. "They sell slaves and mock me with those winged corpses on the wall" it was true, the city had been hanging their most beautiful slaves on the outside wall and dressed them in white with swan wings on their back. But her two hundred could never hope to best that many mercenaries without too many casualties for her liking. She sighed and shook her head "send a messenger to those sell swords, maybe they will listen to my cause and decide to choose justice above coin" if any mercenary had ever done that it would have been a most peculiar one of his kind, but Kayle could always hope, or, at least buy one of them with what little gold she had herself.
Hours went by and nothing happened, she saw no sight of her informer, nor received any reply from the sellswords. Her patience grew thin as the stars became visible on the dark sky, and she exited her large tent, to roam the camp. The men were always ready for battle, most of them believed she would grant them eternal life, just by being here, and others worshipped her like a goddess. She found very little pleasure in their devotion, they were simply ignorant, unknowing. It had been years, many years since she had last been with her equals, and these mortal, human beings were so simpleminded sometimes. She found herself quite lonely at times, especially when surrounded by such a vast horde of soldiers, yet she also found comfort in some of it all. In this sea of swords, she found a blind faith in her abilities, that she herself did not even hold, and that made her calmer. It was because of this simple desire to be assured of herself, that she wandered the camp. Men were gathering around fireplaces, and a few of them singing songs, playing dice or cards, drinking heated, spiced wine, or even holding some wrench in their arms.Their force had grown massively doing the march, and from a hundred men, to three hundred in just a fortnight, only due to free-riders and fortune hunters, all here to see the glorious angel in action. And with free-riders came washwomen, cooks and minstrels, they even had one of those human lord's eligible son, hoping to find glory on the battlefield so he could bless his father, and become a rightful heir.
"Kayle, my Lady, come, sit! I am winning money in your name tonight!"She could not help but smile, the voice was so familiar in her ears, her trusted squire. He was not too bad for a mortal, a sweet lad, without much knowledge of the world, yet a few too much wits between the ears for his own good. He had a tendency to spill his mind before actually consulting his own inner conscience, a tendency that constantly got him into trouble. He waved at her, the lad, and she approached warily; she hardly knew his companions, but they nodded in a greeting. "You are not loosing any coin tonight Lars?"The young lad laughed at her and shook his head. A few days ago he had been polishing her helmet, wearing nothing on his feet, and it was only after many hours of questioning, he had revealed how he had come to loose his footwear."Please, My Lady, sit, sit, you might bring me more luck than simply rolling the dice in your name."He patted at the ground next to him, but she kept standing. Only twice had she sat beside her men, listening to them drinking and talking, and once she had been forced to stab a man, and the last time, one of them had tried to pull off a feather in hopes it would bring luck. It was obvious, even amongst these devoted, honourable soldiers, she had to be vary. She was a superior being, and as she had learned quite quickly, most of these men were greedy as well as those slavers she was to fight, they might attempt to steal her off in the night and sell her in a cage for everyone to view. She was deadly, powerful and graceful, all any warlord would desire in a bought, slaying pet. "I am sorry, Lars but I must decline, Ser Ranould, Ser Marchelle seem to be loosing enough coin to my squire without my blessing upon him"The two metal clad men both grumbled and the left one, and oldest one, gave a complaint about how her squire were simply trying to stall time before his lucky strike ended.
Voices, noise, she turned, the men at the game turned, it was as if time stood still for just a second, and she could feel the hunger for battle rise in every man around her, was it battle? She could hear steel against steel, the song of blades had begun, and maybe...Kayle took wing, rising high above the camp, attempting to spot what was going on. The men at the gambling table had all taken arms, and she could see most of the soldiers doing the same. Those not in armour, were quick to retreat to their tents in order to re-equip themselves, and the rest seemed to advance as if in slow motion towards the commotion. Everything happened at once, men running towards the loud clanging, her commander running towards her tent, her squire as well, poor Lars, with his hands and pockets filled with coin he desperately tried not to drop. Some of the free-riders were at the spot the same time she was, yet what she found was must, interesting. Three of her sentries were dead, and in the middle of it all stood a man, a shade of a figure, yet too tall, too broad around the shoulders to be a woman. He was wearing a long trench-cloak, studded it seemed, and a wide hat, to take most of the rain. He had no weapons, yet he had easily unarmed her sentries and killed them. The men around her drew arms, but she raised her hand and with a voice, stern and imposing, she commanded "Stop, let him speak." Only one of the free-riders dared speak up, but the rest did as told without question."But my lady, he killed three of our men..." She frowned upon this and shook her head. "Should he wish to kill me, he would not be so exposed, this man took the lives of three sentries, they were trained not to be seen and he found and killed them, I suspect that should he want to kill you Ser Arthur, he could have done so easily." The man known as Arthur kept quiet, defeated as he sheeted his sword. "Stranger, what brings you here?"
The man dropped a bag in front of her.
"I bring an offering, to the Lady glad in iron, it is not often I see a woman of your... stature."
His flattery or mockery made her frown, yet she stepped closer to inspect the bag.
"What is this?" Uncertain, Kayle poked the bag with her sword, she was not familiar with bloody bags delivered in the mist of night. As she cut open the robes however, a bloody, dark-haired, fair-skinned head rolled out. "What is this!" She gasped, anger flared inside of her; the free-riders drew steel again as her sword flared, flames illuminated them, and she could now see this stranger's face. He was comely, dark haired, with eyes that seemed like they could talk her into anything, no matter what he would ask. "I give you, what you desire most Oh Great Goddess from the skies." He flashed a smirk which could not be mistaken, this man was a fox, untrustworthy, yet he felt no danger surrounded. She shifted her weight to the other leg, feeling misplaced somehow; usually things came uncomplicated to her, life was simple, there was simply truth and false, good and evil, day and night, herself and Morgana... She had not given her sister much thought for a while, and somehow the name had invaded her thoughts just then. Kayle blinked once, and returned her focus instantly. "Why would I want heads as offering, and I am no Goddess." the man seemed honestly disappointed."But I have heard so much of you recently, they say you are seven feet tall, and shoot balls of fire from your eyes..." he grinned casually. "Well I guess killing your greatest obstacle was not much of a gift then, I will come back to pay homage when I come up with a greater scheme.""Wai- who are these men?!" The man in the hat pulled in the linen and two heads rolled into the grass; his gloved finger pointed at the first head."That would be Rian Sun, leader of the Sunguards." His finger shifted to the second head."And that would be Ser Aeron Heimlord, commanding officer of the Fortune Company." She gasped, surprise was written all over her face, and it seemed contagious somehow."You- why did you do this?" The man shrugged, then turned his back on her."I simply wished to see this wonder, well I hear you have a city to sack, so please, let me not stand in your way." he pulled a card from his jacket, and tossed it at her, and with that he disappeared. It felt like hours had gone, when she found her way back to her tent. Her commander was looking at the maps, and Lars was polishing her breastplate where the card had left a small dent. The queen of hearts was lying on the table, she had felt a strange desire to keep it. Her mind was wandering, as she went trough the details of this night's events; it was all so confusing, all so random. She never believed in luck, everything had to do with careful planning, yet she did not plan for this to happen; who would ever do something so haphazard just for their own amusement? Kayle waved at hand at her commander. "Leave me, we will talk this over tomorrow." He protested at first, but the look in her eyes, made him reconsider and simply nod. Lars got up instantly as well. Night came and went, and Kayle could still not find any sense in it all. Sitting on her own, in her chair, twirling the queen of hearts between her index finger and thumb, thinking of the cloaked, strange man who somehow decided to help her without any hopes of gaining anything for himself. Such a rightious, strange man, such a self-sacrificing, powerful, strong... her mind drifted off and she found sleep easily.
Morning had come and passed, before Kayle woke most abruptly in her chair. Lars was polishing her shoes while she had been a sleep, and obviously the boy had done his best not to wake her; a plan that would have succeeded had it not been for a sudden, loud rumbling sound outside. The day had been sunny till this point, and the sudden bad weather that came without warning, had awoken her from her slumber. She jumped from the wooden chair, kicking Lars right in the face, poor lad, and rushed outside to see what was to come.The sky had opened on top of them, it seemed, and rain water poured down like oceans had been hidden within those innocent white clouds. Lightning split the horizon in two, and men ran towards their tent. Winds blew up, storm gathered, some of the soldiers ran around their tents, securing the lines with wooden nails and hammer. She could see a tent carried up into the air, twirling while it's owners tried to pull it down without any luck. Chaos had hit her camp, like boiling an anthill, everyone rushed to any form of salvation, and a great crowd of free-riders and their servants came towards the large command-tent. "Do something oh Goddess!" Some cried out, others threw themselves at their feet. "Please, you must have angered the gods!" others screamed. Her people grabbing at her feet, her armour, pulling at her.She backed away, horrified. Lightening stuck down behind the growing horde of pleading servants, struck down into a tent that burst into flames immediately. She could see a fire in the other end of the camp as well. Even the heavy rain would not choke the flames. People became more desperate, the horde moving towards her, asking, begging, then, she felt as if it was all still a dream, unreal, when one of the washing-women pointed at her and shouted "The gods need to be satisfied, they will strike us down if we do not sacrifice this one!" Kayle felt fear, unfamiliar, unwelcome, crawling under her skin. The mob started shouting at her, and she kept backing towards the other end of the tent."She did wrong to ask for justice, you all saw how her demonic assassin killed those men yesterday. She is no angel, she is cruel!" "A snake, a weasel!" Others joined in, and now it all picked up speed. The horde started running towards her like one, giant mass, and she leaped across the table, threw herself at the cloth wall and cut an exit with her dagger. The mob was after her, rain whipped at her face, she heard the constant, loud fizzle and aftershock as lightning struck around her. Her wings tried to fly, but the rain pulled her down again. All she could do was run, run away from her camp, run to safety. The marsh became forest, and she fell in between the trees. Some of her men were still after her, shouting that she should give herself in, for the greater good, to appease the gods. But Kayle did not listen. Instead she found a hiding place between a downward slope and a fallen tree. Here she crept in. Her eyes were red with tears, anger, frustration. Why would this happen to her now? In her hour of glory. It all seemed so surreal, how her army had turned on her that instant, as if she was the enemy.
She had nothing to do with the assassin of those mercenaries, she had even refused their heads as gifts; of course secretly, she had admired the stranger who had brought them to her, she had even been dreaming of working with a man like him, it made things a lot less complicated, yet now she felt cheated by his actions, her victory stolen from her by this mysterious stranger in his long coat, with his smooth features and dark hair. Kayle smashed her fist against the wood, then cried in pain as she felt her fragile fingers against the rough surface. She had forgotten her gloves at the camp, as well as her sword. Her sword! She had to go retrieve it, or it would be the end of her she knew, how could an angel call judgement upon anyone without her flaming sword? The rain stopped as sudden as it had come, and she could hear birds chipping in the trees. And dogs. Dogs barking in the nearby area. Kayle listened for a while before realizing that the sound came closer. They had brought dogs to find her, how pathetic. She would not be sniffed out by some dog in a collar.
Slowly she got up to her feet, looking at her surroundings. It was a small, open pond in front of her, and the water seemed to run down from a tiny stream. It was somewhat peaceful, and she wished she could stay. The sound of dogs and men came closer behind her. She could take wing and fly, but she knew they would attempt to shoot her down, and she did not wish to be spotted, not yet. She had to get her sword first.Slowly, she walked into the water. Would it be possible for dogs to smell her from the pond? She thought not, so she moved across, to the other side, and then trough the little stream. The water went no further than to her ankles, and the mud easily slipped her boot.
