GRAND GENERAL.

The Immortal Bastion called for a leader; I was the answer. an independent Swain blog.

[noxperator-blog]

    I’ve been doing research into (homo)sexuality in ancient Rome and Greece to have a frame of reference for Noxus, and the more I read the more I’m not entirely convinced ancient Rome and Greece weren’t elaborate shitposts.

[noxperator-blog]

headcanon | INTIMACY

    “Intimacy? Where is the time for such a thing where every vision I have has me stare into the mandibles of Death?”

    Courtship in Noxus, is ordinarily rather removed from the fantasy of arranged marriages and cloak and dagger lineage manipulation, aristocracy included-- at least in the modern age.

    Jericho Swain, the only survivant of the Swain line, knows this well; yet it remains a mystery to those close to the inner workings of the Immortal Bastion that the Grand General has not been seen with either mistress or concubinus even once, let alone a known partner come to surface. Certainly there are the rumors of what transpires between the General and the Hand behind closed doors, and only rumors those still remain.

    This sharp eye for privacy is a far cry from Darkwill, who before succumbing further to paranoia and madness went so far as to boast about his intimate conquests to guests of the Bastion on several recorded occasions. Swain, comparatively, would sooner die at his own hands before doing such a thing.

    Whether the lack of anything concrete is a testament to the General’s ability to inform those around him of only that which he wants to be known or something else entirely is unclear. If asked, the General simply sloughs it off. Noxus needs a leader first and foremost, any “intimacy” is at the bottom of his priorities.

    Or, perhaps, not from a lack of trying.

[noxperator-blog]

    Although the bonding between Jericho and the demon of the Immortal Bastion rejuvenated him from his existing injuries, the presence of a leg brace (however well hidden) nevertheless proves that the wounds he suffered at the Stand of the Placidium remain in some capacity-- after all, the arm he wields is a projection instead of a true replacement.

    Despite this, those close to Swain know not to mention anything in the General’s presence; all written accounts of the Grand General has his physical profile described as nothing short of spotless. As far as the Noxian people are concerned, “cripple” and the Grand General are total anathema to each other.

[noxperator-blog]

Darius/Swain as allies, bash bros, a ship, etc. is so, SO GOOD. It's just too bad there's little to no fanart or multi-chaptered fanfiction of them. The best content I can find is through Darius/Swain blogs and a fic here and there that'll include snippets of them. We need MORE.

    Luckily, I have plans upon plans to explore their relationship and dynamic through content of my own and as collaborated with others, the likes of which you will probably be able to find on my AO3 (Nvos) in the coming weeks.

[noxperator-blog]

    I don’t consider Swain (or Darius, for that matter) to be the type that fosters romantic relationships remotely easily; he knows too much to be putting such trust in the hands of anyone, man or woman. But Darius, better than any other that Jericho has met, knows what it means to be loyal in the name of country than for its leader.

    Even with a stump for a left arm and a cane to court his shattered leg, Darius was there to listen to Swain’s plan to remove the malignant stain on Noxian history that was Boram Darkwill. Darius, too, remains at his side in the Trifarix as the Might of Noxus, understanding that no matter what the rabble may call him the Grand General of Noxus has done everything for Noxus rather than himself.

     Behind closed doors, well, would it not be natural?

[noxperator-blog]

   This blog may be brand new, but Darius/Swain is... Good.

[noxperator-blog]

    Muttering.

     “Even the tallest giant can be the court jester if he is without presence.”

[noxperator-blog]

    Alright but hear me out: the transformation depicted ingame is Swain using only what’s necessary to decimate his opponents. In more dire situations, the transformation becomes more and more thorough until he is less man and more a roaring horror to behold.

[noxperator-blog]

GAHHH! I can already tell I'm going to like your Swain :D

Should that be the case, it’s a good thing that I’m only just getting started.

[noxperator-blog]

noxianhand replied to your post: headcanon | DARKWILL

[ if darius could give this a thumb up he would because he finds the concept of chasing immortality so asinine; the fact it drove darkwill to madness (of course there was leblanc’s influence behind it but still) just made his distaste for the man ten times as strong. ]

Darkwill: [enters the room]

Swain and Darius:

[noxperator-blog]

headcanon | DARKWILL

    “Darkwill was more than a fool-- he was so certain he wasn’t that he would see nary a string protruding from his limbs.”

    In truth, Jericho Swain should not have felt anything but ambivalence for Boram Darkwill, for he was only a puppet in a game far larger than him-- but it was that the leader of Noxus could be so useless which stoked the fires of his hatred such that his name still brings irritation woven on the General’s face.

    Immortality.

    Immortality, that which sunk the Blessed Isles until it rose again in the Mist; immortality, the very same that Icathia wondered for until it ripped up from the sands and greeted them with mandibles made of thousands of teeth; immortality, the supposed ‘gift’ hidden away in the fey magic of Ionia’s shores that left Jericho with a shattered leg and without an arm.

     What kind of incompetent chases that?

     No-- Darkwill represented all that was maligned in Jericho’s unyielding loyalty not to man but to Noxus. The corruption. The greed. The hideous face in which one would expose a nation to ruin so they and only they could prosper. So grievous was the wound that Darkwill left behind that the Grand General has worked tirelessly to mend since the day Darkwill died.

     And he did not die quickly. Tucked away between the visions of the future, the past is a tapestry heralded by Darkwill’s petulant screaming. A past Swain knows all to well to avoid for the present.

    What a sorry excuse for a man. He did not deserve so much as the shallow grave.

[noxperator-blog]

      THE IMMORTAL BASTION CALLED FOR A LEADER.

                                        I WAS THE ANSWER.

[noxperator-blog]

after the last of the assemblage leave the hearing room, the might’s expression turns perhaps less sour and a tone colder, the usual persona of aggression having no place among fellow wolves. “at least this bunch did not come to us with demands instead of requests,” he starts, tone low, posture lax over his own seat. "i assume they have finally started to understand how the new system works.”

    “Such basic understanding couldn’t come any sooner, lest it start testing my patience.”

    Surrounded by an amphitheater of granite-like noxtoraa stone, Swain was never the type for mincing his words. He sat poised as ever in a throne counted as once belonging to Darkwill; now, the will of Noxus. Briefly the lines on his face crossed before they finally relaxed, the General himself sighing.

    “Frankly if I were less of a leader, only just so, I would leave these horrible meetings to Faceless instead. Let them cajole these warbands themselves.” But, as he and Darius both knew, Swain refused to leave any mantle to Faceless that he could not uphold on his own. When pressed he would remark that the Trifariax Legion was to be exactly that-- only that between him and the Might, the reasoning ran far deeper.

    A spark fluctuated through the General’s phantom limb.

    “Nevertheless, at least progress is being made. Demacians do not defend what is not their own. I fully expect them to retreat from the foothills as immediate as when the first scout sees the bricks of a noxtoraa.” To this, Swain threatened a smile. “So much for their gallivanting as knights of nobility.”

    One lone raven perched on the edge of a Bastion window. Swain did not look for he already knew.

    “I suppose this means that you will be leaving soon to the front, Darius? A good battle is at hand.”

[noxperator-blog]

headcanon | THE BASTION

     “Do not let the Demacian delusions of a ‘skull mountain’ fool you; the Immortal Bastion is as much a symbol of modern Noxus as it is the harbinger of her roots.”

    To walk the halls of the Immortal Bastion of Noxus Prime is to walk the halls of entire eras of history and the whispers within.

    It began as most citadels do-- the largest monument to a lord’s domination. The Bastion was not built politely, or even ethically, as Mordekaiser had long since succumbed to madness that became endemic to many rulers from the Bastion even after he had been disposed and his bones scattered. But, more than anything else, it was built: and so it stands today.

    Created in the image of several castles’ worth of material, it is capable of housing all of Noxus Prime’s standing army into one central area made self sufficient by enclosed gardens and defenses that could be pulled back at any moment, as was first employed unsuccessfully by Mordekaiser himself when the fort was stormed originally by barbarians of Ur.

    In recent years, the Bastion is less solely the place of Noxus’s army and more its own individual entity-- merchants and civil servants alike operate their daily business within the walls, with the average citizen coming and going at least once a year in order to pay their tithe or settle judicial disputes.

    At the very center of it all, of course, is the entity itself that now resides within Jericho Swain. An unnamed demon of unknown origin whose power he can only estimate at has existed in the Bastion since its very founding, a presence Jericho assumes to be related to the Bastion’s dirtied and almost tragic origins.

    Even as it sits invisible in his belly, Swain still hears the calls and whispers of the Bastion. In its own way, the noxtoraa is alive.

[noxperator-blog]

      THE IMMORTAL BASTION CALLED FOR A LEADER.

                                        I WAS THE ANSWER.

[noxperator-blog]

vignette | INTERLUDE

    The Immortal Bastion.

    Never without its whispers. Never without those that could not hear; never without those who could not see.

    Jericho Swain.

    Somehow, one in the same.

    He was poised over the great bureau, dark, almost the feel of marble yet unarguably wooden on the eyes. His own eyes, closed shut; a hand reaching to the air as if to suffocate an imaginary jugular. Despite that, he saw clearly— too clearly— along a neverending landscape made of bones. A thousand arms of a thousand dead men climbed over one another to grab his boots, shrunken nails like dull stakes through the steel. The sky ripped, bleeding only shades of red and orange. The pain was horrible but he continued ever upward, reaching the top of the dead spire. In wait, a creature he knew only for its maddening scream.

    “Jericho.”

    But visions were not reality— they could only allude.

    “Darius.” The hand grasping fell. “You know not to interrupt me?”

    “Your eyes were open.” Darius, a long shadow against the doors.

    Hm. “Maybe they were,” Swain said. “Perhaps I am finding it more difficult to tell the difference.”

    “Never one for reassurances, General.”

    “I’ll keep my head on my shoulders. I can endure far worse, if it is for Noxus.”

    Darius came into view with a heavy bundle of parchment under his arm in lieu of his axe. Swain waited until he was at the bureau to gesture to it, Darius splaying its contents out from one edge to the other. A map: he expected this. He did not expect the number of red Xes.

    At last, a smile began to creep on Swain’s well-lined face.

    “You’ve been busy.”

    “The Might of Noxus does not rest and neither do my subordinates,” Darius declared. For one instant it appeared as if he puffed out in pride. Swain liked the look, even as it retreated from whence it came.

    “Here.” Swain pointed at a river mouth accompanied by a spacious fort. “How did you surmount this?”

    “We didn’t,” Darius answered. “Instead we faked a battle nearby such that they fell out to act as ‘reinforcements’.”

    “Faked a battle?”

    “Faceless.”

    Now, his own smile retreated whence it came.

    “They didn’t inform me of anything.”

    “We may be the Trifariax Legion, Jericho, but not everything is simultaneously spoken between each other. Especially not with them.”

    Swain leaned back in his seat. “I suppose not. Still, to have faked an entire battle… rather the fanfare for that old fort. Did you find anything interesting in the supply caches? Did you find it?”

     Darius’s look grew tired. “Only the halfway burned letter that it was sent off with a scout party further into the mountains.”

    Scoff. “Naturally. Have your men found them?”

    “In due time, Jericho.”

    “I hope so. I won’t allow for another Blade of Millennia.”