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The Switch; Where Jondor leaves this plane, and Érmis takes his place.
Topic Started: Jan 13 2017, 11:39 PM (191 Views)
JondorHoruku
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The King of Alliteration
Occurs during the events of The Passage (Part II)

Jondor Horuku was tracking the movements of a particularly nauseating Chem Baron named Svret Ttren. He had been networking with several officers of Noxus’ primary aggressive leaders. Jondor was tasked with gathering information regarding the potential deal, and break it by any means necessary. He had his full kit, which was unusual for a recon mission. He had a feeling the deal would be going down soon. Tonight or tomorrow. He narrowed his emerald eyes and climbed onto the roof of the warehouse where he had tracked Svret a half dozen times before. He watched as the bedazzled Chem Baron entered from the north, and the red-clad noxian commander entered from the south. The skylight creaked softly as he slipped into the girders of the roof.


Érmis swiftly climbed through the tangled cables and hoses on the underbelly of some ghastly factory. The fumes and stench would killed him if his rebreather failed. He inhaled deeply, green-grey fog poured out of a nearly invisible vent on the side of his throat. He smirked then glanced across a small pit. A large square warehouse, owned by none other than the his imperious Baron-ness Svret Ttren, loomed ominously. He flung himself across the gap and drove his dagger into the side of the building, hanging on for dear life. The odd mechanism in the crossguard of the dagger whirred as its hextech adapted to the strain. He drove a second dagger into the wall, then flipped himself up onto the narrow ledge. He pulled the daggers out of the wall and returned one to his belt. He a narrow cord fell from the bottom of the second as he flung it to the top of the building. The dagger whirred almost intelligently as it abruptly changed directions midair and wrapped itself around a protruding vent. The cable retracted as Jondor climbed the side of the building. He stowed the weapon and slipped through the skylight. He was after a rare piece of rumored hextech. It combined a unique blend of Celestial and Temporal Magic to create a singularity of questionable stability, and various rumored effects. However, Érmis didn’t particularly care. It was worth a lot of money, and he was planning on selling it to the Institute. Win-win. His landing was barely audible as he slipped through the gloom.


Jondor slipped through the beams holding the roof, watching as the two met. The Noxian bowed to the Chem Baron, who inclined his head imperiously in return. The Noxian gestured to a crate, and Svret sent two lackeys to bring the box over. The plain wooden sides were peeled back to reveal a rare and extremely tough metal, forged using a new method utilizing Phyrikos and steel. The Baron placed a hand on the lid, the box opened and a bomb about the size of a cantaloupe was revealed. It was made of clear plexiglass, and the inside swirled gold and white, hints of purple and black blinked in and out. There was no visible detonator. He slipped in closer to hear better.
“We call it The Reset. You break it, and any surrounding individuals should disappear from this plane.”
“Should?”
“Our tests have been… inconclusive… We don’t really know what it does.”
“That’s… comforting.”
“Let me put it simply: you throw this at someone, they’re gone, and they aren’t coming back. And no manner of shields, counterspells, or thaumic defenses can stop it.”
“Radius.”
“It can clear a room. This is our first marketable prototype, however, we should be able to have one that can clear a building in a few months. Some time next year we’re looking large scale. Acres, maybe.”
“It’s not runic though?”
“Hell no, much more unstable and confusing. It’s mainly temporal.”
“Temporal?”
“Time, buddy boy. Time. Had to steal quite a bit of Time-Boy’s stuff to get the info to start work on this. We’ve been syphoning power off the Champion wing for the Celestial side of things, catching stardust almost literally. The main difficulty is gathering the energy to power the damn thing. Aren’t many Chronomages left, we’ve had our eye on one for a while, but every time we get close she disappears. All the Celestial mages would rather die than help us, so we’ve stopped trying. Rats started looking a bit too glowy for my taste.”
“What’s your price?”
The Chem Baron chuckled, “Price? A thing like this ain’t as simple as money.”
“What do you want?”
“For starters, 10,000,000 Silver Serpents for this one here and to start the contract—”
“TEN MILLION?”
“You heard me. And a yordle.”
“A what?”
“A yordle. We need one of those little buggers to… test.”
“How the hell are we supposed—”
Jondor slipped closer and cast a small psychic spell, the box tipped, and the orb rolled toward him. He picked it up and slipped it into his cloak. He glanced back. None had noticed, too consumed with the bartering. He began climbing out. He was directly under the skylight when he heard a shout, he glanced down. He leapt to the side, but was too late. A laser pierced his chest, shattering the bomb. He saw a bright light in front of him.


Érmis sat hunched over metal box, its lid refusing to open. He hated these new psychic locks. He pulled a dagger out, and stuck it into the minute crack of the lid. He pulled a set of tiny flat instruments and laid the pouch out on the floor. The hextech knife pulled itself into the box and worked the crack slightly wider. He inserted two barely curved lockpicks and swiftly twisted them. They stuck in place. He inserted a larger lockpick and twisted it. He smirked when the locking mechanism broke with a snap.
“All the phykiros in the world, and they always forget to fix the lock,” he muttered to himself, as he pulled the lid open. He put his tools away, then he looked at his prize, “hello shiny.”
“Hey!”
Érmis grabbed the bomb and dashed to the side of the warehouse, climbing over shelves and boxes, then leaping wildly and throwing a dagger over the girder. He ran up the wall then flipped himself onto the beam. He dodged a blast from the guard’s weapon and leapt towards the skylight. As he landed beneath his target, the beam beneath him shook and he fell to his face on the beam. He instinctively caught himself with his hands, in the process shattering the bomb in his hand. A bright light consumed his field of vision.


Jondor glanced around. He was moving, he felt himself floating away, but he couldn’t change his course. He saw another figure floating towards him, they slowed as they approached each other. He stuck out his hand, and the stranger grasped his arm. They froze.
“Who are you?” the stranger asked.
“I’m Jondor Horuku…” he paused… unsatisfied with his answer for some reason, “I am Carna Naral… I am Arn Ratriot… Hal’jan Nu…” he hesitated, “I used to be—”
“Érmis,” the stranger supplied, exceptionally confused.
“How?”
“I don’t like the tattoo. Too Ionian.”
“Who are you.”
“I’m Érmis.”
Jondor appraised the stranger again, pulling back, but not letting go. The man’s hextech eye adjusted to the distance, and he smiled.
“You a thief too?”
“Assassin. Summoner.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Not even.”
They felt an irresistible pull dragging them in opposite directions, “Lighten up. Life is only hell if you let it—”
“What is going on?”
“Either we’re dead… or we’re dimension hopping… or something. Didn’t you know what you were stealing?”
“Only just.”
“Well, whatever’s on the other side…”
“It’s nice to know that I could’ve been something other than this,” he gestured disdainfully toward the scar.
Érmis smirked, “It’s nice to know I could’ve done something productive.”
“For Zaun?”
“For me.”
“Who am I?”
“The storm in the night?”
“No… The pilfering cloud.”
“I hate that name.”
The pull dragged them apart.
“It’s a new life!” Érmis shouted, a devilish grin spreading across his face.
“FOR NEW BEGINNINGS!” Jondor roared in reply, his eyesight growing dim.
“For a brighter tomorrow,” Érmis chuckled, the world going black.


Jondor woke on the girder, only seconds had passed, the shattered glass was just now hitting the floor. His cloak billowed below him. He drew his bow and casually shot the guard in the shoulder. He climbed out of the skylight and breathed in the grey. Somehow, he knew where to go. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t back. But he was Érmis. Or was he still Jondor? He shook his head in confusion, and trotted toward his safehouse.


Érmis, on the other hand, had a much more interesting time escaping. He groaned as he woke, eyes widening as he found himself hurtling toward the ground. He yelped in excitement and pivoted himself mid-air, so he was diving headfirst toward the floor. A pillow of cool steam halted his descent and he rolled on to the floor. He slammed a canister of fog onto the floor, clouding the room with smoke. He laughed menacingly for affect the slipped out through the front door, leaving the Chem Baron’s guards firing into the fog. He quizzically looked at the warehouse. It still had the same symbol on the front, but there were a lot more guards than before he blacked out. He glanced at the scratches left in his hand from the shattered glass. No prize then. He felt like he knew where to go, but he didn’t know why. Something strange was going on.
He followed his instincts to a safehouse. He was greeted by the low growl of a jungle cat, he crouched and extended his hand, “Easy there Tora…” He paused, confused. How did he know the cat’s name? Regardless, the cat seemed uneasy, but still approached him, equally confused, “I guess we’re friends now,” he muttered to the tigress. She mewled reassuringly.


He arrived at the Institute the next day. He went to the desk, “Summoner name, JondorHoruku. Do I have any mail?”
The desk attendant pulled a file, “I’m sorry, but you don’t match our description for Summoner Horuku. I’m going to have to incarcerate you.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Please don’t resist, that’ll cause a mess.”
His hextech eye whirred franticly as it changed spectrums to infrared. He shrugged, “Catch me if you can.” He pulled another mist grenade out of his belt and threw it onto the ground. The room clouded full of mist as a half dozen guards entered the room. Their clairvoyance spells failed to penetrate the fog and when it cleared, he had vanished.
Érmis shifted uncomfortably in the ceiling. Brilliant plan. He twisted and shoved himself through the struts holding the drop ceiling. He eventually found his way to the room and slipped inside. It was darker than he remembered, he waved through the thick mist and sat down at a desk, pulling open a drawer. He saw a series of wanted posters, most featuring his face, but with the Ionian scar. Érmis shoved the papers back into the drawer and saw the rows of arrows stacked neatly beside the bed, a half dozen daggers laid out on the nightstand. He frowned, confused, then pushed out the door. He pulled his summoner card out of his robe pocket.
Summoner JondorHoruku, commissioned by the Institute of War.
He stopped, stared at it, he was commissioned in Zaun… He dashed to the Summoner Administration wing, “I need to see High Summoner Kolminye as soon as possible.”
“She’s not available for two weeks at the earliest for very urgent cases, most cases will need to be vetted and won’t be filed for up to one to two months.”
He glared at the administrator, then a cloud of fog filled slowly filled the room. “I need to see the High Summoner now, please.”
“You’ll have to wait—”
The fog filled the hallway, slowly ebbing to fill the entire wing. Érmis strode past the blinded guards and pushed his way into the High Summoner’s office. Unimpressed with his impertinence, she started to talk, but he flung down a wanted poster, his summoner card, and the still glowing pieces of glass on her desk, “What the hell is going on?” his hextech eye whirred with confusion.
She glanced at his face, the poster, his card, and then cast a detection spell on the glass. She smiled slightly, and dropped the poster in the trash can near her desk, “looks like you’ve been given a different life. It will be interesting to see what you do with it Jondor Horuku.”
“My name is Érmis.”
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