#ic caitiff

“I swear, I heard something earlier.” 

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.” 

“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.”

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. 

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!”

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.

Short Story / Open Starter

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

“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

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.