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Isaac: Crimson Sunrise; Or what Isaac was doing during Lines in The Sand
Topic Started: Jul 28 2017, 02:33 PM (139 Views)
TheMushroomWizar
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Magus
I wrote this a while ago , back when LiTS was finishing as part of one of the Noxus updates. Im posting it here since it was never released. Thus, a disclaimer that some details might be outdated compared to most recent lore.

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Isaac wakes to the cadence of Noxian drums and the orders of officers. He gears up and eats his rations before heading out for training. Clad in dark blue leather armor, wearing a red headband, a crimson poncho and holstering a silver whip on his hip, Isaac is a rather sad looking young man. He is rather short, a little thin, and with a tired, weary look in his brown eyes.

Even at the camp closest to the Warpgate, the atmosphere has been one of uneasiness and stress ever since Nefara began harassing Noxus more than about two weeks ago. She was the reason Isaac was there to begin with.

Everywhere he went there always seemed to be some sort of ghost, ghoul, zombie or another kind of undead monstrosity waiting for Isaac, things that made his blood run cold just thinking about them. Although unsung and relatively unknown, Isaac was one of the few to have fought The Shadow Isles and returned, alive, to tell the tale. He isn’t exactly proud of this. The Night Hunter had taught him well, but in Isaac’s eyes, he still had failed his brother.

“Undead… I can’t stand them...” he mumbled as he walks outside. After a brief pause, almost as if waiting for someone else to answer he exclaims:

“DEAD mummies, Simon. I expected DEAD ones!”

Other soldiers stare at him as if he had gone mad, Isaac had since gotten used to that kind of look, not really blaming them for doing so. Sometimes he himself couldn’t really tell whether it was really his brother’s voice or just him, slowly losing his mind.

Outside, he performs his training, appreciating on how he’d rather do pushups in the cold morning than in the heat of the afternoon sun. He sees other Noxians not too far away, performing their drill exercises. Isaac noticed one of them stopped, a lost distant look on his face, struggling to hold back tears

The drill sergeant walks towards Isaac, clad in his red and black armor. Isaac rises to salute him.

“I’ve been relayed orders by the Legate. You must meet with General Darius at once!”

“Yes sir!”

“Blood for Noxus!” The sergeant shouts as he gestures with his halberd.

“Blood for Noxus!” Isaac replies. He salutes but he doesnt look very convinced. He never liked to pretend he enjoyed saying that.

As he walks away, Isaac looks back at the forlorn soldier being scorned by the drill sergeant.

“What are you doing?! I did not give you the order to stop!”

“They took him, goodness those things...Those Void beasts took him...I wasn’t even there for him last night…”

Isaac considers comforting him, but doesn’t in fear of getting into trouble for showing weakness. Not here, of all places. He turns around.

As Isaac makes his way to Darius’ tent, he can count at least a dozen armed soldiers within eyesight at any given moment. Horses, camels, and other war-mounts whinny, feed, and stir at their makeshifts stalls. Siege weapons lie protected from the sand by tents, idle but ready to be deployed. Foreboding iron towers rise around the perimeter of the encampment, lit by a green flame at the top; turrets ready to blast intruders with dark arcane power; Cassiopeia’s plan to stand her ground against Azir’s powerful magic. All usual sights for Isaac at this point.

He spots something unusual this morning, however. Hiding behind the shadow of a tent, concealing their faces within crimson robes and emanating an aura of death Isaac was already too familiar with.

Necromancers.

Morgana is not too far from the group. She looks at them, a hand on her chin and the other on her hip. She can be seen smirking as her torn wings flap slowly but with a distinct confidence. She briefly turns her head around to stare at Isaac, who is quick to break eye contact and keep moving, Morgana shortly returns to inspect her followers, pleased.

“Don’t we have enough undead out there to worry about?” Isaac said to himself, “I mean what did they even hope accomplish by reviving Si…”

Isaac cringes, covering his forehead and shaking his head.

“Ugh. No. I don’t want to think about that thing. Who would listen to me... I’m little more than a soldier... An errand boy for The Black Rose.” He sighs,

--------------------------------------------------------

In Noxus, the worth of a person and the rewards she or he would deserve go hand in hand with their strength, prowess in battle and merits to the cause. Nowhere else was this more visible than in the tent of the Blood Brothers, as the people used to call them with praise. Being champions, their lodging in the desert was spacious, well-lit, warded with protective spells day in and day out and well-stocked with items of great comfort and luxury.

For Draven, this was nothing short of what he felt he deserved. He swings his axes, juggling them, throwing them around and catching them in place.

He is in his underwear.

Whether this was him warming up for duty or just his daily morning routine it wasn’t at all clear. Some said he was so good at what he did, he didn’t even have to try. He could be performing asleep and none would tell the difference. Every now and then he looks over to a mirror on the redwood table by his bed.

“What would Noxus be without Draven!” he thinks to himself as he admires his sculpted physique and admirable dexterity. He laughs. “Haven’t performed for a foreign audience since Shon-Xan!”

“Draven, sir?”

A timid voice interrupts his thought process. It is Isaac’s, who had just entered his room.

“You came for an autograph, kid? If so, sorry, but Draven’s a bit busy right now” Draven replies, not even turning around to face his guest.

“No sir, I was wondering where General Darius might be. I can’t seem to find him” The young man replies. Draven stops swinging his axes. He puts them down and stretches himself.

“Oh. He usually doesn’t like to spend time here. Y’know him, preferring the discipline of military life to the “decadence of luxury” as he puts it. He really doesn’t know how to have fun, but fine by me! The entire place for myself!” Draven lets a short laugh and extends his arms to the air. He then walks towards where his attire hung.

“I see... So can you tell me where he went, please? I need to...”

Draven interrupts Isaac as he dresses up. “He should be in the war room with the rest of the officers. You really should know your way around camp by now.”

“Shouldn’t you be there too, Draven, sir?” Isaac asked.

“Are you seriously questioning Draven, squirt? Bad idea.” Draven turns his head around only briefly before turning back to the mirror, pointing at his reflection with both fingers and giving himself a playful wink. “Ever been to one my shows? It figures from a mile away you haven’t.”

“No disrespect meant, sir. Just saying that it’d be wise if you were there to hear what General Darius...”

Draven interrupts once again, this time there is a certain annoyance to his voice

“Listen, who do you think you are to be telling me what or what not to do?! The Grand General or something?!” He shifts his vest and turns around to Isaac, puts his hands on his hips and looks at him impatiently. “Now go waste somebody else’s time! I need to prepare for today’s ‘performance’.”

Isaac sighs, shakes his head and heads for the exit of Draven’s room. Just before leaving, Isaac turns his head.

“You really should spend more time with your brother, Draven. He won’t be around forever, you know…”

Once his bothersome guest was gone Draven goes back to the mirror, grabs a chair, sits in front of it and leans back.

“What difference would it make now?” he thinks, “He’s way too busy hogging all the attention anyways and it’s not like we don’t have to see each other anyways, almost daily.” He yawns and sniffs, “What does he even like doing besides being on duty, anyways? He really needs to loosen up and enjoy life a little!

For a very brief moment however, Draven’s nonchalant attitude gave way to a grim feeling of sobriety as he thought out the last words his guest said. Would it really hurt to try and spend some time with Darius just for the sake of it? Did he really consider himself more important than his brother? After all, it’s the only family he had and ever will have and one of these days, being the younger of the two, he’d be alone. Draven leans on his hand and closes his eyes, lost in the thought.

His train of thought is interrupted once again by another voice, or rather, several, coming from his mind. Chanting.

“Draven! Draven! Draven!”

Oh, how he relished the sound.

“Draven! Draven! Draven!”

The cheering shouts of the audience clamoring his name as he set about his executions were music to his ears. The sounds, the smells and the sights of the spectacle; just remembering them sends chills down his spine and makes him grin with satisfaction. Just as quick, as it had come, his doubts vanish.

This is who he was. What he lived for. This is what was the life for him. Why become yet another face on the wall of war, like Darius? Why lose himself amongst the crowd of an army? Why seek the company of just one brother when thousands already chant your name and will remember you forever in story and song?

Draven opens his eyes, he looks at his reflection and stands up. He lets out a boisterous laugh. His audience was waiting for him, and today’s guilty promised to put up a good fight.

“Draven, baby! The entire world is your stage!”

--------------------------------------------------------

Ever since they bounced back from their defeats at Shon-Xan and during the calamitous Discord, Noxus started to become more independent from Zaun’s influence, garnering newfound strength during their incursion on Shurima. While people at Noxus no longer held Zaun in such a high regard as before, they were still allies. Relations had only roughened so much, but some of their younger, brasher members had taken to bullying their Zaunite companions as some sort of retribution for calling the shots for Noxus during the Hextech Revolution.

Just as is happening not too far from Draven’s tent, where a young Zaunite tinkerer is being picked on by a couple of new recruits, much taller and stronger than her.

“Hey! That’s mine! Give it back you two!” She screamed, jumping in vain trying to reach the Techmaturgical Power Inverter she was about to show the captain a few minutes ago.

“Not so strong now without your gadgets, aren’t you little Zaunite?” One of the recruits says in a mocking voice as she tosses the device to her friend.

“If you can’t take it from us, you don’t deserve to keep it! “ The other one said as he tosses it back to the other recruit just as the tinkerer was about to reach her invention.

“Give it back, or I’m calling the general!” she screams.

“Hah! Like he’d agree with you, coward!” The female recruit said. She tosses the power inverter back.

“Both of you! Cut that out and leave her alone!” Isaac shouts at them as he passes by. The privates turn their heads around and stop their play. They laugh at him.

“Oh look, it’s the aspiring ‘champion.’” The female recruit says, mockingly, “Is the shorty still afraid of ghosts?”

“If you two had any amount of common sense, you’d fear them too!” Isaac responds, winces briefly and shakes his head. A very unpleasant mental image involving skeletons crossed his mind at the mention.

“Oh how cute! He’s nervous! You truly are an exemplary Noxian!” The male recruit taunts, tossing the power inverter up and down, “Too bad your dumb brother isn’t alive to see you fail!”

Isaac’s eyes fill with anger, he withdraws his whip and ensnares the laughing private before pinning his head to the floor under his boot. Wandering eyes watch in interest.

“I didn’t survive The Shadow Isles and then walk all the way over here through the desert for you to talk SHIT about him!” Isaac exclaims, pulling slightly on the whip, choking his victim.

“I may be shorter than you, but I still rank higher, and I swear by the memory of my brother, I’ll make sure to remind you! Now don’t let me catch you two doing this again, understood?!” Isaac pulls even more, outright strangling the young recruit, who can only muster a choked “yes” as he nods.

Isaac lets go and the hurt recruit stands up, hands the power inverter back to the tinkerer, and retreats to the company of his friend. The female recruit and Isaac have a stand off, exchanging stares of defiance for a while before the two recruits suddenly take off in fright. The young Tinkerer as well, runs off, making sure to avoid her bullies on the way.

“Huh, never had them run away like that before” Isaac thought. A quasi-mechanical, inhuman coughing interrupts him. He slowly turns around and he froze in fear as he finds Urgot, the Headsman’s Pride, standing right behind him. Isaac stares at him and Urgot only stares back with his inhuman, glowing green eyes.

Urgot speaks “Excuse me. I...”

Isaac says nothing and jolts away towards his destination.

Urgot laughs, then coughs again. Both equally painful.

--------------------------------------------------------

Isaac reaches Darius’ war tent, he is received not by guards, as he expected, but by a few mature-looking mages clad in dark green robes, their hands held in front of them and eyes closed in concentration.

When Isaac salutes and requests entrance, one of them opens one eye and responds, not budging.

“I am sorry, but the General is busy with matters concerning only to him and his chosen elite. Please. Wait there.” He points at a nearby iron bench close to the entrance “He’ll be attending you in a moment, specialist.”

Isaac takes a seat, he expects to hear something being this close to the tent, but at first all he hears is silence. Even when he very subtly put his ear to the side to hear what was going on. He looked at the mages at the entrance.

“A concealing spell?” Isaac thought. He looks around “Out here, I really can’t blame him, I suppose...”

Just then Isaac started hearing something, it was muffled and, for a lack of better description, noisy with static. As if the aura from his haunted whip created a strange clash with the guard mages’ work. He didn’t even need his head that close to the tent to hear the heated conversation inside.

Darius and his chosen, the few amongst the Noxian ranks he admired and respected due to their unparalleled bravery and martial prowess, sit around a table where a magical hologram lay; simulating the lay of the land and the position of each of this conflict’s players forces.

Darius speaks first, his voice is stern.

“We cannot continue fighting on multiple fronts. Our defeat at Bel’zhun is testament to this. This is no fault to any of you, nor any of the brave who gave their lives for Noxus, but one of critical lack of foresight from Cassiopeia of our undead enemies. They must be dealt with.”

A female voice rises up from the group.

“She and LeBlanc are willing to sacrifice so many brave and able men and women for their own sake! They haven’t even told us what exactly they want here. I don’t think they have the best interest of Noxus in mind!”

“Bah! They’re only doing what Swain is telling them to do” A male voice responds “If this blasted expanse of sand is so important why isn’t he here, fighting with us?”

“He still prefers those Zaunite cowards and the Black Rose to the sons of Noxus!” another voice rises in indignation, “He’d rather gas civilians and desecrate the remains of a war hero than to use the strength of his own people! Riven was right!”

“Being brought back is a honor to his name! And do not EVEN mention that traitor here, Silas!” another female voice interrupts “Her bleeding heart is what ultimately brought Noxus to its knees thanks to the chaos of rebellion!

“But she speaks the truth! Perhaps we should rebel and retake our rightful values once more!”

The tent hall explodes into heated, passionate and furious discussion. Darius can only put up with bickering for so long. He grabs his axe and drives it to the middle of the table, just holding back from breaking it. The tent hall quiets down, all eyes on him."

“Silence! This is no time for quarreling! Do not make me doubt my trust in all of you.”

“But Darius, sir, what do you think of all of this?”

Darius sighs, dislodges his axe from the table, sits back down and thinks it out for a moment.
“Warriors. I am not his right hand. Perhaps, if I had been in his place I would not have taken the same decisions as him. But if it is his hand which will save Noxus, then I must follow."

Darius gives his men a stern look.

“And I expect you all to lead the rest by example. If we are to win this campaign, there can be no divide between us. Noxus once stood as one in the face of disaster and it shall continue to do so today, be it during qualm or storm. Otherwise, our weakness shall be exposed… And exploited. Do not. Show weakness. Never forget this...”

There is a solemn silence.

“Now that doubts have been put to rest we must get back to the task at hand.” Darius moves pieces across the map. “We must remain close to our borders in order to defend against Renekton’s raiding parties, as well as any other threats coming from Shuriman land. Katarina and Talon have agreed to help scout for Piltovian incursions near our territories. Meanwhile, we must send a small group of troops to clear an outpost near the Floating Pyramids overrun by Nefara’s forces.”

“You mean using the new specialist?” one of his chosen asks, “The aspiring Champion?”

“Yes, They tell me he offers some promise. I can only hope he doesn’t remain as just a promise.” Darius says.

“I’ve heard he is scared of ghosts, doesn’t that worry you, sir?”

“If he is a worthy Noxian, your concerns are unfounded. If not...” Darius picks up his axe and stands up ”I’ll make sure to make an example out of his cowardice.”

Outside the tent, Isaac had just listened to everything up until the mages guarding the entrance were called back inside. There was sweat running down his forehead and an anxious expression on his face. One of the mages walks back out from the tent.

“Captain Darius is done with his meeting. He will see you now.”

Isaac gets up, swallows heavily and walks in to receive his instructions for a second time.
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