#theundyingblade

[of-deception-and-perfectionmoved]

@theundyingblade

♠ - Even if she had not seen his face on the rift before, his attire alone would have made him stand out among her people. Though the sheriff did not hold the same resentment for Noxians as she did for Zaunites, she couldn’t help air on the side of caution for now as she addressed him. 

“A bit far from home, aren’t you? I hope no one has come to pay you for my assassination as of yet.”

Gods knew she had made too many enemies for that to be an impossibility.  

[ask-riven]

HC - Training

// Riven’s training was twofold.  (Also, links here & here for more info)

She initially began “training” at age twelve, when she started watching the Noxian soldiers going through drills and learning to be warriors.  Her formal training, however, began when she was fourteen, two years later, and two years under the normal minimum limit for Noxian citizens.  This training sharpened the skills she’d already managed to gather by mimicry, and made her a true swordmaster.  During this time, she also learned how to wield a Noxian Zweihander in one hand through painful and exhausting personal stubbornness and training.  Once deployed to the Freljord, she learned to use her innate Ki-based abilities, and slowly improved on them.

Her second batch of formal training took part at Bleakwood Officer Training Academy in Noxus.  Here she learned the finer points of Noxian history when it came to the art of war.  She studied martial fighting techniques and battle strategies from some of the largest battles in Noxian history.  She studied Demacian, Rakkorian, Freljordian, and even ancient Shuriman war tactics and strategy, and while she was not a tactical genius, she learned the finer points of commanding troops on the field, and how to lead.  During her training here, she taught herself to read and write.  To this day, she considers that feat to be one of her most impressive.

[luxannacrownguard]

HC + Studies

Meme

Luxanna excelled in her studies, there was no doubt about it. She was an intelligent young woman, perceptive and meticulous in terms of detail in her notes and her assignments. She was a natural, a prodigy; all of her instructors and peers assumed greatness for her.

Not that her studies were all she cared for at the time. She often found herself feeling bored. It wasn’t ever because the subject matter wasn’t engaging--it was, truly--but it was more so the fact that she rather enjoyed taking action rather than theorizing, no matter how good she was at it.

[youcannotaffordme]

Headcanon Prompt: Theft

[ Living on the streets was extremely difficult for Valentina. Being young, she was prone to danger, and it was even worse since she found no gang or a single friend to run with. Everything was up to discover by herself, including how to survive, which meant that the first few times she attempted to steal food for herself were absolute failures. She had yet to learn how to be sneaky, so whenever she did try she was caught and was punished through beatings from angry store owners. Eventually this motivated her to get better, but even as she perfected the art, it was always hard to find places that she could take from without being seen or caught. ]

[withvalor]

Prompt: Sweet Dreams

Labored breath was sucked between lips as heavy footfalls carried the Ranger swiftly through the trees. The shadow of the man she hunted, the man that she somehow knew was not the man needing chasing, skirted along the edges of her vision. He would be trapped, the cliffs rising rapidly before the duo promised her this. A smug smile dared to creep at the edges of her lips as sh-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaawk!"

"O-What Valor?" The woman grumped immediately, eyes pulling from their focus on nothing to fix upon the bird that had since ceased circling above in favor of perching on a nearby branch. Golden orbs blinked once, head tilting in slight as feathers were ruffled in disapproval. Quinn had been spacing out, not for the first time this morning, when senses should have been better trained on the world around them. The assassin, the one rumored to be none other than Talon himself, would not be bringing himself to justice any time soon.

A disgruntled sigh slipped from the woman as she rubbed at her eyes, did her best to ignore the dream that had so effectively robbed her of her senses. More specifically, what had occurred next. With a cautious glance at Valor, who had wings half spread as careful eyes took note of his surroundings, Quinn decided… That she could be allowed just a few more moments of her memory.

Moments that would be spent reliving Talon, the guilty man she did not pursue though the blame for the attempt on King Jarvan’s life rested firmly upon his shoulders. 

Feet skidding to a halt, the cliffside that should have trapped the man turning the tables on the Demacian instead. The way his presence suddenly enveloped her from behind, rough hands immediately trapping her own. The way teeth were felt grazing the tender skin of her neck as she melted almost willfully in his embrace as those rough hands began to twist and pull at her wears. His breath against skin she dared to expose-

"RAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaawrk!"

The Ranger started so powerfully that her weapon of choice, her trusty crossbow, nearly slipped from her fingertips as the eagle, who had not taken flight as Quinn might have hoped, ruffled almost accusingly at his companion. A heat immediately began to spread within the woman’s cheeks, quite a different sort of sensation when juxtaposed to that which had taken to stirring to life in a zone a bit more southern than her face. Caught in the act, daydreaming about a man who was, in all actuality of course, a filthy Noxian. A Noxian who killed only because that was why he existed. A Noxian who was far, far from Demacia and had likely been for quite some time….. A Noxian who had his hands all over her… 

"…… Stop looking at me like that," she murmured, eyes suddenly glued to the forest floor as she fumbled with her weaponry. "…. Its not like it was real or anything…"

[6:an embarrassing dream]

[askfrostedezrealrp-blog]

"Excuse Me."

Send me an "Excuse Me" and I'll tell you my muse's reaction to being interrupted while: 4. Changing

His tattered shoulder cape was impatiently tossed onto the bed of the spare room within the Institute. The Explorer was soon wearing thin from the previous battles--to him, they were all pointless, irrelevant and nothing but necessary sacrificed time for his enhanced abilities. A drawn out exhale was let out, as if it were to breathe out the restrained fatigue that built inside his rib cage. His jacket, shirt and pants followed as he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt in preparation for a shower.

He was down to his final piece of clothing, until the door clicked open to one of the people he had least expected. While the Noxian assassin had been a familiar ally in the previous matches, why the hell was he even doing here? 

"... Wrong room?" 

[enforcedviolence]

ask-shacothejester replied to your post:ask-shacothejester replied to your post:Mother’s...

// DISHONOUR ON YOU

theundyingblade replied to your post:ask-shacothejester replied to your post:Mother’s...

// DISHONOUR ON YOUR COW

[ did you nerds plan this ]

[generaldarius]

Sacrifice. // Inb4 feels train

 He did not know precisely when he decided to sacrifice his human precepts on the altar of the beast. Perhaps it had been that one dogged settlement, or that one supplicant too pertinacious for their own good. Perhaps it was because the burden of pragmatism finally became too much to bear. Perhaps it was because he had seen there was no point in their presence there, that their actions only served to fill pockets.

He had been a laborer before he had been a soldier, and he knew the feel and weight of the yoke when it fell across his shoulders. When he had been younger, he could say no, he could find some other means of employment- but he was a soldier now and he could not refuse it when his superiors demanded him to plunder villages for their material riches, to interact with people who treated them with respect in the day and ambushed them at night. The men who were ranked above him did not see how their fruits were picked from the trees of men- but he saw, and he knew.

Here he was, surrounded by the greed and insanity of men, by his actions he was now bereft of the anchor that had kept him in place in the swirling maelstrom of human corruption.

Grief had left him uncertain, afraid, and it was only a matter of time before he too succumbed to the calling of the beast, before he too wished to become an unthinking creature that destroyed all that it could see. He did not want face cold days and bitter nights alone any longer, did not want to be reminded of warm smiles and fleeting brushes across his skin. He wanted only for all things to die, to burn.

He did not know when he sacrificed his reason for madness, but when he pulled the chains and opened the cage of the beast that lay in the deepest, darkest and farthest reach of his mind, he did it gladly.