The doors of the warehouse creak open, hot sunlight breaking through the darkness. “You sure your not being paranoid. Again.” Megaera replies strutting inside, her greatsword slung across her back. Crates of demolitions, ammunition and other war supplies were stacked to the ceiling all ready to be used overseas.
A shorter girl joins the other immediately peeling off into the warehouse searching in between the various rows of goods. “I’m in charge of making sure all this gets on the ship when we shove off to Ionia, and if even one thing goes missing it’ll be my fault.” Caitiff barks, already inspecting the crates to justify her suspicions. “So yeah, I’ll preemptively give you shit so I don’t have to take it later.”
Megaera sighs. “It was probably just the wood creaking, or a rat, or something.” She leans on the edge of the open door desperately trying to find any reason to not spend the afternoon looking through dusty boxes.
Peering at the endless inventory, Caitiff spots a scrap in a crate that looks like it had been cut by a large knife. “No Meg, someones definitely here.”
An ear grating groan comes from Megaera. “Fine.” Closing the warehouse door the Gloryseeker starts half heartedly checking the room for any intruders. “I’ll kill whatever rat’s making noise in here.”
“What the fuck are those.” Getting stuck on escort duty was a calming change of pace from the usually busyness of life within the legion. A few weeks' journey to the Noxian cities south of Argent Mountain and then back home was practically a vacation. Even Megaera, who was easily bored by such an assignment, was lulled to contentment by the monotony of the journey. It was only when the little figures cured her interest and pulled the Gloryseeker away from her guard duty.
The little humanoids, clothed in purple hoods, marched in a line towards the walls of Glorft. Tiny axes and staves in hand once they got to the walls of the city their weapons tapped and tinked off the thick stone with all the little might they had. Caitiff joined Meg and the two just stared in disbelief. “Should- should I tell the captain?” Caitiff questioned not really understanding if the city was under attack or if these little creatures were just playing.
Strutting forward Megaera stepped close to one of the creatures in the back holding a small staff, as she approached it stopped attacking and momentarily cowered in fear. As if it were a small cat Meg picked it up by the scruff. “I don’t know, I think they're harmless.” Shaking the cowled thing she held it seemed to jiggle like a coin purse, Meg eyes widened with surprise. “Hey, they sound like they're full of money.”
“You- uh, might wanna stop that Meg. There's a bigger one.” Caitiff pointed over to the tree line where she believe saw a slightly bigger version of the creatures wearing a pointy wizard hat instead of a hood.
The shiver runs up Caitiff’s spine, startling her from her work. Though the night had already cast cool darkness over Noxtora Prime it was hot and smokey in the warmasons' forges. Caitiff had been working overtime, as usual, taking the odd jobs left over from the day. It was mostly so she could save up to eventually purchase plans and materials for her own weapon, but it was also a back up fund for Megaera. The Gloryseeker was constant in recklessly spending and forgetting money for regular utilities.
Pausing from hammering out metal basilisk claws, Caitiff focused on the random shiver that definitely wasn’t from the climate. It was always a faint feeling, a sense of deja-vu, suddenly feeling like she was repeating something from a dream, but it was certainly a sense that not many others had. Her mother had once told Cait that she had a gift similar to how she could call fire to her hands. In those old innocent days, Cait would point at shapes and lights she saw dancing in the swamps of Nockmirch and her mother would tell her ‘When you bleed and become a woman, I’ll teach you to use that gift.’ But Cait didn’t bleed until her thirteenth year and by that point her mother was long gone. Without her mother, and now living in a place where if you weren’t careful with such gifts you’d get taken advantage of, there was no one Caitiff trusted to ask for help in understanding her talent.
Yet still, Cait knew she had felt this shiver feeling before, when the Ruination swept across Prime. Meg and her had just barely survived that horrible apocalypse, desperately fighting for their lives as the undead and corrupted allies swarmed the capital. Closing her eyes she focused again trying to recall what she had just felt, it wasn’t nearly as powerful as the shivers that cursed her those damned days. Maybe it was something else.
Stepping away from her work desk, Caitiff peers around the nearly desolate smith. Almost if her gift was guiding her eyes snap towards the women. Caitiff hadn’t seen her before but she certainly didn’t seem like she belonged in the depths of the warmasons' forges. Shaking her head the young women steps forward, damn her own stupid paranoia.
“The foreman is busy, if you need to talk to her you’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.”
If either of you could have a single wish, what would it be and why?
Megaera is quick to puff out her chest and start speaking, her voice radiates with pride as she boasts loudly. “I want to be known as a great Hero throughout Noxus. For my legend to live forever alongside the great Warriors of the Noxidi, Noxkri and Noxtali. Glory in war and death I want people to sing my tale: MEGAERA THE FURY OF NOXUS!”
Caitiff slowly ponders the question, her face forlorn with memories. “I just. . .” Hesitating, she thinks back to times that seem so far away. The solitude of wetlands, the warmth of the hearthfire, was worth going back to her childhood now. So much had changed, so much of the truth of the world was revealed to her. “I just don’t want to be a burden to anyone. . . ever again.”
One could always tell when inspection was coming when the singing stopped. Among the clatter of metal against wood and steel the hum of various songs would always rumble through the work of the warmasons. There was never any consistency in tune across any camp as the diversity of the Empire brought together songs from every corner of its borders. Like any other day Caitiff simply mumbled along with her fellow workers' song of wistful memories of farm life, until it was suddenly cut off with anxious whispers.
The Grand General’s entourage had apparently arrived at their outpost causing panic and curiosity to ripple through the other workers. Caitiff just sighed not bothering to even catch a glimpse of the surveying legionaries; half because she was currently wedged underneath a ballista tightening rivets worn by use, and half because she didn’t care to. Did the other warmasons forget that they worked directly with the Trifarian Legion? It shouldn’t come as a shock for either the Grand General or the Hand to pass through here. Besides what would his presence matter to most of them, their superiors would get new orders and they would be reassigned elsewhere. Only thing Caitiff could personally hope for is to be stationed with her battle sister Megaera in Shurima; she hadn’t seen her since they fought together in Ionia.
Her foreman barking her name catches Caitiff off guard as she quickly wiggles out from under the war machine, mud and dust clinging onto her attire as she stands. “You and I are needed at the main tent, Grand General wants to see us.” The orders of her superior echo across several ears as a dozen eyes all turn at once towards the younger warmason. Jealousy, and amusement paint the faces of her fellow workers, some whispering to one another and others openly mocking Caitiff. Breathing in deeply she pushes away the initial anxiety and walks forward, causally throwing her tools at the feet of those that harassed her. “Well why don’t you prove yourself better and finish fixing the ballistas’.” Caitiff sneers walking off with her foreman. They couldn’t, she was the only one small enough to repair those unreachable gaps, but until she came back they’d have to find a way or admit their incompetence.
Striding quickly towards the main tent the original pang of dread resurfaces out of her own confusion at the situation. Of course the supervisors were being summoned, they were probably just going to be reassigned as usual, but why her? Was she to be promoted? That seemed unlikely, though she was no apprentice, Caitiff was still young and lacked experience. Was she being accused of something? Caitiff couldn’t think of doing anything wrong, at least nothing that would warrant an accusation from the Grand General. Stepping into the main tent the young warmason did her best to bottled her unease behind a neutral face, as a leader of the Empire graced the room.
Caitiff had only ever seen the Grand General’s visage through interpretations, particularly the great statute of Vision the stood ever watching outside the Immortal Bastion. Yet seeing Swain in person was different then she had expected. Though he commanded the room with the authority one should expect of a leader of Noxus, Caitiff could tell he bore scars and experience the same way every veteran did. Piercing red eyes at the same time waved away any relatable humanity he would give off, making him unnaturally intimating.
Even as the other warmasons grew elated at the news of their promotions, Caitiff stood still wary in slight disbelief at what was going on. As their letters were being handed out, Caitiff glanced at her foreman as he was handed one with the stewardship of Urzeris. Damn it, that's where Meg was, if Caitiff hadn't been summoned here in only a few weeks she’d have been with her sister again. What was so important that required her to be here- oh.
The engraving of a bird skull stared back at her, and Caitiff was affixed to the spot in disbelief. It was only after Grand General guard’s explained the situation that her confusion and anxiety finally formed into words. Swain's response at first did little to help her understand her original question and she simply paused waiting for him to finish. Nearly alone in the tent the brazier's light danced against the shadows and in the silence something itched at the back of her mind. Caitiff looked at Swain again, this time squinting as if trying to gaze something on his person. Something hidden in the darkness. . .
it can see me
Caitiff gasped as she stumbled backward a step. As soon as she had sensed its presence, it disappeared in the flickering light of the fires. What was THAT? What did he mean by power? Did he know about her sixth sense? Caitiff had never told anyone but Meg about the things she could see, it was dangerous to let a secret like that slip. There were always rumors of magically sensitive people going missing in Noxus, and though her ‘talents’ were barely more than an overactive sense of deja-vu, she still kept it to herself.
Steadying herself, Caitiff righted her posture and silently saluted the Grand General. Even if she was nervous about such a thing being revealed there wasn’t much she could do to escape from it. And more so if Swain was like any of those nefarious enough to kidnap random mages, why would he bother to promote her in the first place. Quietly she followed the guards to go collect her things, silently hoping this initial bout of awkwardness didn’t completely ruin Swain’s first impressions of her.
Stepping back outside now escorted by the Grand General guards, Caitiff exhaled and allowed herself a moment of respite from her anxieties. Turning her attention to her letter of recruitment she broke the seal carefully so as to not destroy the original wax stamp. As she read through her new duties a goblin-like smile paints her face if only for a moment. Megaera would always boast about her own liberation at the hands of the mighty Darius himself. How the Hand of Noxus had saved her from her old tyrannical king, that this was the reason she fought and bled to become a Trifarian Legionnaire. Despite all her boasting, Megaera didn’t seem to get noticed by her General anymore, her story fading into the many others that also claimed victories alongside the Hand. Yet here Caitiff was holding a document that literally proved even without reading it that the Grand General had chosen her to serve as his warmason. Whenever they would be reunited together, Caitiff could not wait to show it to her battle sister, and rub it in her face for a very long time.
In the dappled forest light the Ionia fighters seemed to blend in with the woods, it was no wonder how they had traversed through the treetops without the group of warmasons notice. The battle at the village's entrance was meant to draw any warriors out so the demolitionists could flank the town and blow open an entrance in the forest. But something had given them away. Caitiff heard the gurgle of blood clogging someone's throat and turned around to see a Noxian scout fall. It was the tree’s, Caitiff had heard stories from veterans of the first Ionian war, they warned that the land itself hated outsiders.
Remember the objectives. Her own words that she had so often barked at others rang in Caitiff’s ears, ordering her to act. Using her small stature to her advantage, Caitiff dodged behind the other warmasons to avoid brawling with ambushing Ionians. The explosives were already in place and if they hadn’t ran into combatants the scout group could have retreated to set them off properly, there was no time now. Climbing onto a rock overlooking the skirmish, Caitiff pulled out two black powder grenades. There was heat from a sudden fire somewhere, maybe someone else had the same idea as her but they would have to set off the explosive in the center of the brawl. Taking the pin with her teeth, Caitiff pulled back her arm, the grenade already beginning to glow orange. "The few for the many." It wasn’t much of an apology but if any of the other warmasons did hear her she hoped they understood.
krisssss krch-BOOM
The heat flash of the explosion blinded Caitiff temporarily and she only felt the hard ground against her back as she was knocked backwards. The sound of the explosions continued, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM burning the path towards the village. Groaning Caitiff blinked, sight and sound slowly coming back to her. Through the smoke and fire she saw both the bodies Ionias and Noxians scattered around the impact of the first explosion. Caitiff didn’t know any of the warmasons that lay in the rubble, maybe she would have if they had lasted longer in the war, but it was probably for the best that they remained unknown to her. When her first mentor had been killed by pirates she had wept for him almost as much as she had with her mother, Caitiff refused to go through that again.
There was movement through the smoke, a figure clad in green, they screamed in Navori tongue. Caitiff twitched her limbs trying to get back to her feet, the last standing Ionian noticed the lone warmason and drew their weapon. Clenching the other grenade in hand, Caitiff let them approach, if this was her last and only act in this war she would go to the Wolf on her own terms. A sudden rush of timely footsteps stopped her from making that choice. “Not my sister!” With a wild cleave a dark steel greatsword pierced the torso of the last Ionian, pinning them against a tree.
“Meg, you're supposed to be on the front lines.” Caitiff coughed as she still struggled to get to her feet. “I was commanded to kill the elder.” The strong arms of her battle sister pulled the young warmason back to her feet. Still dazed, Megaera holds Caitiff in place for a moment to allow her to regain her barrings. “Old fuck fell back into the villages center and is calling vines to push us back.” Meg nods towards the newly burned entrance to the village, Caitiff could see a familiar violent glint in the gloryseekers eye. “Thanks to you I can finish this.”
“Well don’t go in alone.” Caitiff grunted, adjusting her weight to stand on her own. “We were ambushed here, we don't know what they have on the inside.” Megaera just smiled pulling her sword from the tree, Caitiff's would-be killer slumped to the ground with its removal. “Then come with me! Will take it together!” Before the young warmason could respond her battle sister was already charging forward towards the fray. Idiot, for all the Might she had, Meg's longing for acts of glory in the empire's name would sometimes leave her wanting in Vision for her own future.
Taking stock of her surroundings, Caitiff patted down her belongings; she still had her tools and axe, but she would need more than that to keep up with the gloryseeker. Scattered amongst the remains a slightly charred crossbow stands out. Without hesitation Caitiff takes it along with a handful of bloats, and sprints after her battle sister.
The path the explosions had made was carved in fire, Caitiff covered her mouth as she ran through the smoke. Before she even got to the village entrance she could already hear Meg clashing with whoever was inside. Quickly forming a plan as she enters, the warmason climbs on top of a ruined building to assess the area. Meg was already locked in combat with three of the green clad fighters, the elder was a few yards away chanting as the vines rumbled beneath the ground, by his side a woman clad in red with a long brimmed hat covering her face.
Knowing her battle sister's prowess, Caitiff was sure Meg could take the fighters herself, their farmers' weapons were nothing compared to Crown. But the woman in red; she stepped forward her movements deliberate hands swayed as if with the wind, in time with her motions small metal daggers floated to her side. A blade witch, it was obvious that this woman would be able to out maneuver Meg before she could even make a strike.
The black power grenade felt heavy in her hand, Meg might be caught in the blast if she acted recklessly, she had to wait for the right moment to act with her battle sister. Quickly parrying a strike, Meg kicks her last attacker's knees knocking him to the ground and deals a finishing blow. Pulling the pin on the grenade, Caitiff holds the glowing bomb as she watches the blade witch rush forward. The gloryseeker raises her blade to block but it would be useless against the multiple daggers flying towards her. “PULL!” Caitiff shouts, as the blade witch leaps towards her target a glowing bomb hitting just behind her. In a split second Meg shifts her stance to dodge away from the blast.
krch-BOOM
.
.
.
"YOUR MINE!"
A wave of adrenaline passed through Caitiff as she hears Megaera’s shout, Yes! She still stands. Reloading the crossbow, Caitiff looks over the roof’s edge she had hidden behind. The blade witch was on the ground stunned from the blast but not dead, leaving the elder exposed. There was a rumbling if only for a moment as if the vines were tunneling through the ground towards Meg, but they wouldn’t make it. Head down, the gloryseeker charges forward and heaves her massive sword to cleave the elders torso from his legs.
For a moment all was still, only the distant sounds of battle from the village's entrance echoed like the growl of a fearsome beast. The blade witch jolted to her feet the blood of her comrades staining the earth around her. “Surrender.” Shuttering the blade witch turned, Meg stood above the two pieces of the elders body, blood and viscera staining her black steel sword. “You can end this fight,” Megaera's demeanor had changed; she stood like a statue, her face calm as she spoke Va-Nox as clearly as possible. “Stand down, and end this bloodshed.”
“End this bloodshed. . .” Her hat still covering her face did not need to be visible to convey the anger in the blade witch’s broken words. Fingers twitching the discarded blades twitched as well. “FOR IONIA-” thunk
Megaera had brought up Crown to block the incoming blades but they twisted and spun off wildly as if the strings pulling them along had been suddenly cut. The crossbow bolt had struck the blade witch through the back of her neck, her red hat fell to the floor before her body did. Slowly climbing down from her perch, Caitiff walked over to stand by her battle sister. Meg continued to stand silently, her eyes glazed over in thought.
“She wasn’t like you.” Caitiff spoke softly as she sensed Meg’s unease. “The battle isn’t like what happened in Urtis, your people needed liberation from a tyrant.” Slinging the crossbow over her back, the young warmason softly reached out to take her fellow soldiers hand. “This battle is about revenge for failure. For the ones we lost before.” Caitiff looked up at her battle sister, her only family. “And I refuse to lose you now.”
"As if I would go down that easily." The gloryseeker hand tightens reassuringly around the warmasons, as she looks back and smiles. "Or ever leave you to die." The cries of victory sounded them as the other legionaries entered the village, Noxtoraa banners rippling in the wind. There were no longer any Ionian souls left in the village to surrender, Noxus had won.
A wooden water trough sits in the middle of the Trifarian mess hall, red apples bobbing along its waters surface. Caitiff sits patiently near by holding a sand timer.
“Fuck you Farron, I’ll get twice as many as you did.”
Holding a blind fold in her hand Megaera steps up and kneels beside the trough. “Got the timer ready.”
“Yuuuuup.” Caitiff says calmly.
Wrapping the blind fold around her eyes Meg’s hand grip the side of the trough. “Ready!”
“Ready. . . set. . .” Caitiff holds the sand time horizontally as other legionaries lean in to watch the Gloryseeker either succeed or get soaking wet.
“GO!”
skla-GLOOSH
As soon as Megaera leans forward, Caitiff pushes her head into the water. Flailing backwards, Megaera coughs erratically trying to catch her breath as the other Trifarians erupt into laughter.
He stood checking the plants and began to lightly touch the leaves of the foliage with his fingertips, these daughters wilted at the touch of the crimson tips of his fingernails and with his human hand he shook the branches, in psñarte it was comical, as if he were taking someone by the neck and bleeding them.
"If you don’t remove the excessive foliage from the plants, they won’t bring out flowers, if not enough flowers come out, the scent won’t linger in the garden…”
He explained, resting his hands behind his back and approaching to examine the youngsters with his eyes.
“You guys are curious, I’ve gotten to see you somewhere…some battle.”
He knew well how many places he had seen them, but he would let them explain their history or make some presentation of their persons.
The pair stood quietly unsure whether they had disturbed the Grand General or if their presence in the garden was at least tolerated. It was Caitiff who watched closely as Swain tousled the branches; she hoped that some of the leaves would fall off for her to collect. It was an old thing from her childhood, but she did miss collecting peaceful smelling flora for the winter months.
Upon being asked of their past, Megaera smiles, immediately starting to speak. “Megaera of Urtis, I was recruited by the Hand himself when he liberated my home. I proudly fight alongside him as Trifarian, for glory and honor all in Noxus will know my name.” Gesturing towards Caitiff, Meg hits her lightly in the chest in her excitement. “And of course, my battle sister, Caitiff. I wouldn’t get very far without her knowledge and skill.”
