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| Camanis and Boreas; Or: "Several Leaps of Faith, Logic, and Ludicrousness" | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 2 2016, 03:00 PM (226 Views) | |
| Damaster00777 | Jun 2 2016, 03:00 PM Post #1 |
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Secretary of Fabulosity
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I did it. Hurray. Original GDoc here. Camanis and Boreas Deon floated down to the declaration chamber. It seemed like the League was making discoveries yearly, and that factions would squabble over the macguffin of the week and someone would be favored to win, but would get beat out at the last second. At least, that had been his experience. He’d watched Ionia manage to beat the Bilgewater juggernaut during the Nyroth incident, and had been part of the Shurima that thrashed everyone to earn statehood and then took a nap and let Noxus win the… whatever. Good times. Exactly what he’d signed up for: world-changing kerfuffles. When Deon entered the chamber, everyone’s hair and/or fur stood on end. Not due to fear, but due to Deon’s floating (his “stormtrance”, he called it, claiming it was not at all derivative or blatant copyright infringement) emitting static electricity, and having the effect of ruining hairdos and causing furred creatures to become super fluffy. “Hi. I’d like to declare for the upcoming kerfuffle.” the young man said to the now wild-haired clerk. The clerk stared back, her expression seemingly saying “are you frickin’ kidding me right now?”, which Deon didn’t quite get why. “Of course you do. Which faction would you like to declare for?” she asked, her voice nigh contemptuous. “The Freljord.” Deon had already thought it through. “Alright. Sign here please.” the clerk requested, her contempt slightly soothed by the electromancer’s quick response. A lot of the summoners who had come earlier that day had spent it hemming and hawing over which faction to fight for. Deon signed quickly and handed the quill back to the clerk. “Alright, now for the oaths. Do you, Deon Mcgee, swear your allegiance to the Freljord and its leader or leaders for the duration of this dispute?” “I do.” “And do you, Deon Mcgee swear to fight when pledged to and to the best of your ability?” “What little I have, yes.” “And finally, do you, Deon Mcgee, swear to uphold the Summoner’s Code and the Institute Rules of Engagement to the best of your ability during this conflict?” “Indeed.” “Alright, you’re all set. You can go,” the clerk said, trying to hurry the little localized disaster out of the room. Deon thanked the frazzled woman obliviously, and left, still floating as he began his trek to the refectory to get some cherry soda. As he left the room, however, he was tapped on the shoulder, Deon turned in surprise and barely restrained the bolt that was arcing off his stormtrance. He directed it into the ground, leaving a scorch in the stone and earning a startled squeak from the woman who had tried to get his attention. “Sorry!” the two exclaimed in unison. “No, no, my fault. I shouldn’t have tapped you, I realized it was an lightning field too late.” the woman explained. Deon shook his head. “Maybe, but I’d hate for anyone to get hurt because I like to float around like a living battery. Although causing a person’s hair to frizz does not fall under ‘hurt’ in my book.” The woman then took a moment to reach up around the top of her head to find that her long red hair was now standing on end. She chuckled, which Deon took as a good sign. “So, err… what did you need me for?” Deon asked. “I can tell by the attire you’re some form of diplomat, and I’m not a head of state, so…” “Oh, no, no, I’m actually here to see you. Well, not you, specifically, but people like you- that is, summoners who signed up for the Freljord for this dispute.” she explained. “Uh-huh.” Deon absorbed the information. “Alright, well, you’ve seen me. So can I go?” “Err… I mean, I had sort of wanted to talk to you in-depth,” the diplomat clarified. “But if you have important business to attend to, you don’t have to.” “Why didn’t you say that first, lady?” Deon now had a grin on his face. “I’ve got nothing better to do, I can sit for a chat.” “Oh! Alright then! Well, I, err, commandeered a side room we can talk in, so…” “Okay, ma’am, your nervousness is making me nervous, and I’m probably 5 years your junior. Relax. I’m just a kid with lightning powers, nothing special. Now, lead the way.” Deon attempted to ease the woman’s anxiousness. All he managed, however, was to stun her into silence with the combination of his bluntness and his opinion of himself. “Here we are,” she broke the silence after they had traveled a fair distance down the corridor. She opened the door, revealing two other people: a large bald man wearing furs, and a woman wearing a set of icy blue robes, the hood of which covered her face. “Finally! I thought we were going to grow old in this ro- what the hell happened to your hair, you look utterly ridiculous.” The man almost shouted at the woman escorting Deon. The diplomat looked at him for a moment, confused. Then she made the realization. “Oh, right, my hair. This young man specializes in lightning magic. His floating is generating a lot of static, and, well,” she motioned to her hair. “That caused this.” “Whatever, let’s just get on with this,” the man grunted. “Wait, we have to introduce ourselves first!” the diplomat exclaimed. The man, normally a warrior for the Winter’s Claw, Deon guessed by his temperament and garb, stared at the woman, undoubtedly from the Avarosan clan, whilst the other woman, probably an emissary from the shadowy Frostguard, smirked. The Avarosan sighed. “Fine, I’ll introduce all you both for you. Deon, my name is Aedel. I’m a diplomat from the Freljord. Sort of. The gentleman currently glaring at me is Haldr. He’s a warrior from the Winter’s Claw.” The man grunted in response. “And the woman sitting in the back of the room is Illyana. She’s a-” “Spy,” the man interrupted. “-de facto emissary for the Frostguard.” Aedel continued now glaring back at Haldr, placing emphasis on “de facto emissary”. Illyana merely smiled from under her hood and gave a small nod when she was mentioned. “So, now that the introduction are out of the way, let’s begin.” Aedel motioned for Deon to sit as she took her own seat. Haldr elected to lean against the wall, staring down at the young Ionian. “So, let’s start with some easy questions, right? For instance, when did you join the League?” Aedel asked. “I’m more interested in where this child is from. Lemme guess, Piltover, right? You look like a pansy and have lightning magic, that’s usually a sign of a Piltie.” Haldr interjected coldly. Aedel glared at Haldr once again, but Deon was unperturbed by the warrior’s outburst. “Actually, I was raised in Ionian by a reclusive mage. I got left on his doorstep when I was an infant, and he raised me until I left for the League on my sixteenth birthday. That’s how he tells it, at least.” Deon answered both questions. “Ah. Alright. So, you joined about three years ago, I gather?” Aedel asked for clarification, and Deon nodded. “Did you fight during the pyrikhos dispute between Bandle City, Demacia, Piltover, and Zaun?” Aedel questioned. “No, I didn’t. I was on hiatus at the time, writing a treatise on magic.” Deon sighed at the end of his sentence. Sure, the perks of being a recognized author in the field of magic at eighteen was a great feat with greater perks, but it wasn’t his passion. But that topic was not further explored. “Ah. Is this your first major dispute, then?” Aedel shifted in her seat, more out of trying to find a comfortable way to rest than anything. Deon shook his head. “Wrong again, ma’am. My first major dispute was the Nyroth incident.” Deon explained. “I see. So, I’m guessing you fought for Ionia during that dispute?” Aedel was not really good at this guessing game, Deon thought and began to laugh. “I’m sorry, but you’re oh-for-three now. I declared for the Shadow Isles during the Nyroth incident. And it was glorious. Right up until Kroclyea.” Deon sighed wistfully. “Good times. Good times,” he smiled. “So you were a godsdamned necromancer during that incident? Disgusting.” Haldr spat. Aedel shot him yet another glare. She’s really good at glaring, Deon thought as he rebutted the coarse claim. “Not really. Honestly, I’m not sure what I was during Nyroth, I was so all over the place. I thought I knew ice magic. I thought I knew life magic. I thought I knew fire magic.” Deon winced as he remembered how bad he was at fire magic. “But I had no idea who-slash-what I really was. So I went soul-searching in a place in a place with plenty of souls- the Shadow Isles.” Aedel blinked a couple of times, and began formulating another line of questioning. Deon, however, was not finished. “And I’ve figured out who I am. It took most of the Shuriman Independance to do it, but I did. And I’ll get to it,” continued Deon. “First, I’d like to applaud you, Aedel for following the first rule of diplomacy and beating around the bush.” This caught Aedel off-guard, as she’d thought she’d been more subtle than that. Deon noticed that, however, and explained. “I’ve dabbled in diplomacy myself, you see.” Deon stood at this point. “And I know that the first rule of it is to never open with the matter at hand. I also know that you three, or at least, your bosses, the three princesses quarreling for control of the Freljord, are only interested in one thing: Why is this summoner joining the Freljord? And I have answers to that.” Deon stopped to take a breath. “Don’t worry, I’m not joining it to spy on you. I have no real alliances outside of these disputes, and I’m about as good at espionage as the Frostguard is at sharing.” At that, Illyana merely shrugged. “I’ll start with the easy one: Why am I joining the Freljord? Well, I wanna build a mage tower in the wastes.” At this, Aedel merely stared at the electromancer, while Haldr slapped his palm against his forehead and Illyana began to grin. “I prefer the cold, and there’s plenty of real estate in the wastes of Freljord. I’m gonna build it out of stone, and I’m gonna put an alembic in it, and I’m gonna enchant it to shoot lightning on command, and I’m gonna call it Camanis.” Aedel smiled nervously while Haldr placed his face in his hands. “An intriguing endeavor,” came Illyana’s quiet voice. The other three occupants of the room looked over at the hooded woman, and then looked back at each other. “Well, of course, you’d have to go through the proper channels; buying the land, getting a permit…” Aedel nervously noted. “Don’t worry, I’m aware of that. I’ll build the tower eventually, not thirty minutes from now.” Deon chuckled. He then took a slightly more serious expression. “But that’s the easy one. I’ve a second one that’s a bit more complicated.” “Alright, well, go ahead we’re- well, I’m all ears.” Aedel corrected herself mid-sentence, and Haldr scoffed. “Well, when I was orphaned, my dad said that I was left with a little pendant that had my name on it.” Deon began. “What he neglected to tell me until a few months ago is that there was a word on the other side of the pendant. The word ‘Boreas’.” This earned him a look of confusion from Aedel and Illyana, who gave each other look and shrugged. “No, no, you’re not expected to know it. It’s not Valoranian. It took my dad 17 years to figure out what it was.” Deon clarified. “See, it’s from an ancient civilization that lived on the other side of Runeterra. Apparently, Boreas was a storm god in the civilization’s pantheon. Winds, rain, lightning, the whole thing. But that’s not the interesting part.” Deon paused to observe his audience. Aedel and and Illyana seemed to be listening intently, and Haldr even seemed to be listening a little, so he continued. “See, Boreas was supposedly a very temperamental god, and had a habit of constantly destroying cities, towns, anything man-made and then some,” Deon exposited. “He’d obliterate the entire population, except for one woman, who he’d take as a bride. Dad said the details were unimportant, but an avatar of Boreas would usually result in the ‘ironically unholy union’. At least, that’s the conclusion my dad came to.” “Wait a second.” came an unexpected gruff voice. Deon turned to the warrior who had spoke. The grizzled man continued. “Are you seriously saying you’re the son of an ancient, extracontinental god?” It was Deon’s turn to look shocked. “Sorta. Yeah. I’m… I’m surprised you were listening, Haldr. You didn’t seem interested.” “I’m only interested because it is the single most ludicrous thing I’ve heard in some time.” Haldr snapped back. Deon nodded understandingly. “I’m sure it is.” he replied, a look of admittance on his face. “But whether or not it’s actually true is besides the point. Now, we’re at the heart of the matter. I want to join the Freljord because it’s a land of storms, at least in my opinion. Something is drawing me there, I think. If I can find guidance, an artifact, a ruin, something that will make sure I don’t become the Oncoming Storm, then…” the young man sighed. “I just have to go with my gut on this, right or wrong. And that’s the long and short of it.” he finished. The trio of Freljordians merely stared at the self-purported son of an ancient god for a good thirty seconds. It was Aedel who spoke up first. “That is quite a lot to take in in, oh, fifteen minutes? Thereabouts? Yes, yes, I think we’ve got a good idea about you. Unless, Haldr, Illyana, do you two have any other questions?” Haldr merely muttered under his breath, something about “a loud of yak shit”, while Illyana shook her head. “He believes his words. That is conviction enough for me.” she announced. Aedel flashed the Frostguard a smile, and then looked back at Deon. “Well, thank you, Deon, for being open and honest with us.” she extended her hand to shake. “Thanks for joining up with the Freljord. We’re happy to have you.” At that, Haldr mimed gagging, and strode towards the door. “Oh, uh, I believe that’s our cue to go, I guess. Goodbye, Deon. Have a pleasant rest of your day!” Aedel bid the young mage farewell, and followed after the fur-clad warrior. Illyana was the last to even move from her seat, let alone leave. She sat, seemingly in silent contemplation. Finally, she stood and moved to the door, neither shuffling nor striding, but almost sliding across the floor. However, before just she left the room, she lifted the left side of her hood, looked at Deon, and winked at him. This left Deon suitably confused. “Why did she wink at me? What purpose- why did she wink at me? Why did she wink at me? Why did she wink at me?” Deon placed his hand his forehead and sighed. Oh well. Add that to the mysteries pile. Right now, Deon needed a cold drink. A cold cherry cola, to be precise. And with that, the electromance resumed his stormtrance and his original mission: to receive the cold refreshment he had been after all along. Let's see: Credit to Destiny (the game) for Stormtrance Credit to Shadow Knight for the names Haldr and Illyana Credit to Rinsujo for Aedel Credit to Tyrian (the game) for Camanis Credit to Greek Mythos for Boreas |
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| Rextreff | Jun 2 2016, 03:15 PM Post #2 |
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Hoy, small fry
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How does Deon float ??? |
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7:16 AM Jul 11