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Today is a special day to me. Today is the day that I started writing Blade Reforged, and so, I will be starting to post its sequel today, the day of its anniversary. In regards to Blade Reforged, I'm going to update it again with the edited chapters and posting them, and I would like people's feed back in regards to how they're liking the edits, if I took something out that is a horrendous mistake on my part or anything. With that said, I'm going to be using this first post as a progress bar to let you all know when you should be expecting the next chapter and so I'll be forced to try and write things on time =p.
Now then...People to thank.
When I first started writing on these forums, I was nervous as all hell. People like Jaykoboy, Cerubois, Senstrae, LancerXXX, LOLZTonyx3, WexAndywn, some of my first commentors, helped me trudge through. Then people like Ryugi Kazemaru came along, then I started meeting more of the fanfiction community. Authors like HuggableZombie, BladeAngelX, Silver of Souls, KobuZero WaddleBuff, Kneesurgery, Haruka Shinigami, Ask Talon, Dorry, MajesticRaven (These are all people who I suggest you look up their stories!) helped me think of ideas and in ways I didn't think before.
I must sincerely thank all of my critics, because without you, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today. (This includes you Angel Envy, without your correction of my grammar I wouldn't have taken the first steps to becoming better!)
Thank you to all of my readers, thank you to all of the support you guys have given me over the past year, and in the more recent months, thank you KuzAnn for putting up with my inane ramblings and discussions =p. KuzAnn is not only a great writer but she has also become my editor for many of my stories.
Now then, without further ado...
Riven, Book 2: Blood for Noxus
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
The last few moments of Boram Darkwill's life were perhaps some of the most enlightening in his entire life. The night of his death, on his way to Kalamanda, he slept in his overly lavish and regal tent. His pratorian guard, several members of the the Raedsel unit, slept in their own modest tents in a circle around him. The slightest sound would alert them to almost any presence that dared to tred near them. The field in which they camped for the night had no foliage, nothing to obscure the sight of the watchmen, nothing at all could surprise the highly trained Noxian soldiers.
The eternally youthful ruler of Noxus slept peacefully, his head resting against a silk, gold embroidered pillow while he snored loudly. For no particular reason, save for gut instinct, Boram snapped awake and sat up in his cot. He stared into the darkness that occluded his vision. Boram squinted, then grunted at the corner of his tent, his tone authoritative, "What do you think you are doing, LeBlanc?"
Golden heels soundlessly walked out of the shadows, the black peeling away from the woman's body as though it were a coat as the deceiver stepped into view. She smiled as she spoke, her voice resembled the cascade of shattered crystals, "Was I so obvious, Darkwill?"
"Answer my question."
"There's no rush, darling." When LeBlanc spoke the last word, one could almost taste the hate that flew from her lips. "Let's have a drink first, shall we?"
Darkwill slid off his cot and walked into a section of the obscuring shadows within the tent. Sickly green, necromantic magic hummed from his body which provided a little illumination for him. Every step his bare, slender feet took, the grass he stepped on blackened and browned, twisted about and died. Wisps of their life force seeping into the ruler of Noxus' body.
The green light revealed a strange, chest-like piece of furniture as well as a decorated oak table and a pair of chairs. He leaned over and clicked it open. The dull shine of glass could be seen, glinting from the green light that shone from him. Darkwill withdrew a bottle of dark red wine and two glasses.
"Do make that four glasses in total, dear. I'll be drinking for three." LeBlanc stood in place, patiently waiting with staff in hand which hummed with a faint, purple energy. For some reason though, she was still smiling.
Darkwill shrugged and placed the two glasses on the table. He reached over and tapped the edge of the glass closest to him. "Answer, then I will pour."
"Always the gentleman, Darkwill. Quite the gentleman indeed!" The mock in her tone bore no effort to be disguised. "You don't want me to be honest, Darkwill. You honestly don't."
"I honestly do," he retorted, circling his finger along the rim of the glass. "I am a personal believer of making one's last moments somewhat enjoyable if it can be afforded. I have let you live as long as you have because it worked in my favor. You fight for Noxus, you have successfully furthered my agenda yourself, you volunteered for the Ionia versus Noxus rematch. I let you live, because you could do nothing to stop me if you wanted to, and we both let the sleeping dog lie."
Boram looked over at LeBlanc, his voice low. "So why waken the sleeping dog, LeBlanc? I know you are not Emilia. Perhaps you are Josephine? Maybe Mona? Or was it Evaine whose body you have hopped into now? Why take such a risk when I am still Darkwill, and you are a shadow of your former self? Tell me the truth, I am quite curious and we both know that even you grow tired of the game at times."
"Me? Tired of the game? Never. But very well, Darkwill. I shall tell you the truth." LeBlanc leaned ever so slightly forward, her smile still evident. "You are going to die tonight, and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Mhm. I see. Well, thank you for telling me, LeBlanc." Darkwill half filled the glasses with the red wine. "What's changed to make you so bold? I'm still Boram Darkwill, the Raedsel guard surrounds us, the first twitch I make will have them descend on you and cut you to ribbons."
Before Darkwill could grab the wine glass it started to levitate. It quickly floated over into LeBlanc's open hand who still had that same, damn, smile on her face. "Why should I tell you, when my associate can do a much better job?"
Out of the shadows, a new figure emerged. An old man with a cane, wrapped in the gold and dark green robes, stepped forward. Three pairs of red eyes glinted and stared at Darkwill from the darkness, and was soon revealed to belong to a raven that sat perched on the shoulder of the man.
"General Swain?"
The older man, Swain, nodded. A scarf covered the lower half of his mouth, his red eyes looking about the room. "It is a nice tent, High General."
"Swain, what are you doing here?" Darkwill picked up his glass and swirled it about, staring at the general.
"Is it not obvious, Darkwill?" Swain waved his fingers at LeBlanc, "I believe the Matron has told you the truth already."
"...So I was right. You are a traitor." Darkwill tapped the side of his head, "I have not yet been wron-"
A ridiculously loud cackle, along with the cawing of a raven, ripped through the tent. Darkwill's eyes darted about, none of his guard apparently heard such a loud sound.
"You were wrong the very moment you were made the leader of Noxus." Swain hobbled over to one of the two chairs, pulled it out, and sat on it. His raven flew off his shoulder and rested herself on LeBlanc's outstretched forearm. The raven's claws firmly secured itself onto the golden armband. "What you wanted to do, was to reclaim Demacia as part of what rightfully belongs to Noxus, yes?"
"Yes. Your point?"
"Where are you going now?"
"To Kalamanda," Darkwill took a hearty chug of his wine, nearly finishing it in a single gulp. He nodded his head about while saying, "To reinforce the peace treaty with Demacia. Because of the prisoner's death, too many discrepancies have been brought up. Too many events, too many oddities, I have to make sure for the future of Noxus that the peace we have managed to maintain remains. I will have to...be..."
Swain stared at Darkwill, who seemed to slowly put things together in his head. The ruler of Noxus stared at his general, the sickly, necromantic magic surging out from him. "You."
"It took you this long to realize such a plan. Do you know why? Because you are an idiot." Swain's voice rose in volume. "You are not only an idiot but a lunatic. You started the war with Demacia, you were the one who led Noxus through two Rune Wars against the Demacians, you were the one who wanted to claim Demacia through blood. You spent centuries, time and time again, trying to do accomplish a simple goal. It took you several centuries to realize the futility of your actions, and what is your answer?"
Swain slammed his open palm onto the table, letting the sound boom forth, "Supplication!"
The general settled his temper and himself before speaking again. "Essentially what you've been doing is going one plus one equals three for several centuries, trying to make it fit. You are a lunatic for trying the exact, same, formula for every single conquest. It rarely worked yet you continued to use it as the ultimate solution to every, single one of your aspirations. The moment I'm in charge, I win your battles, your wars, your efforts. Give me any task and I succeed. The moment I am not included in something? Abysmal failure. Look at Ionia, you fool. If I was in charge, I would have those pacifists licking my boots in mere moments. My only failure was the one time that I had Jarvan IV, in Noxus, in my grasp, ready for execution. In all of your centuries, the closest you got to a Lightshield was when you let Jarvan III sneak in and release dozens of slaves from the heart of Noxus. You are never aware of the consequences of your actions. All you are is an outdated hedonist, a man who should never have been in the position that you are in. You are an abysmal, worm of a man with too much strength and too little brain power to rule, and it is an atrocity that you have for so long." The general chuckled and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to say that."
Darkwill did not seem impressed with Swain. "So that is why you are going to try to kill me? Because you don't want peace with Demacia?"
"Are you that dense? You do not deserve to rule Noxus, Boram." Swain tapped his chest, "I do. The Black Rose shall bloom once more. We will put things as they once were, with the Rose's connections and my genius, we will take back what rightfully belongs to us. Unlike you, smashing your metaphorical head into the wall until you give up, I can see that you can walk around the wall."
Swain leaned his head onto his knuckled fist, staring at Darkwill with his red eyes all the while. "Any last words, Darkwill?"
"Yes, what makes you think you can possibly kill me? I am High General Boram Darkwill, I am the strongest fighter in all of Noxus, the most powerful necromancer in all of Runeterra, and you think an old man with a bird and an illusionist can kill me? The moment my guards awake-"
"They're dead." LeBlanc sipped at her wine, still smiling.
"...Ex...cuse you?"
"They're dead. The moment I walked in their hearts stopped. They're all dead. Unfortunate, but necessary. Their throats are now being slit by two of our members, dressed in typical Demacian armor and wearing the standard Demacian army boots, and they will leave. Their corpses will be burnt to assure no identification can be made, but better safe than sorry. We are being as thorough as possible. All that is left, is you, me, the bird, and my dear Jericho."
Darkwill poured himself another glass of wine, handing the bottle over to Swain. He took a drink from the glass and shook his head, "And what makes you think that the two of you are even close to a match to me?"
Swain's raspy voice answered, "First: You are nowhere near a Nexus, meaning you cannot tap into its magic for anything. All of your magic must be conducted through your body which significantly weakens you. Second: This is the first time you have left Noxus in centuries, and you are now currently in the middle of literally nowhere. Third: You have no other bodies in which to power your necromancy, as we have effectively surrounded your tent with temporary glyphs that will not permit your power to escape the bounds. Fourth: You let us settle in as deep as we have, and for your ignorance you will have to die."
Darkwill snorted and let out a light chuckle. "That only means my power will be concentrated on the two of you. This will be but a moment." He polished off his glass and shook it at the deceiver while staring at his general, "Now then, shall we dance?"
"We?" LeBlanc looked over at Beatrice and nodded her head. The deceiver reached up at the circlet that adorned her brow and took it off. "Why would we dance? I never said we were going to kill you, I said you're going to die tonight."
The high general blinked, trying to make sense of what was just said. "If not you, then who-"
"BoRAm. It hAS bEEn toO LOnG."
The glass fell from his hand. Necromantic magic roared from him, concern and even the slightest hint of fear crossed his features. "...No...You, I killed you. You're dead."
"YoU ANd I boTH KnOW ThAt In NoXus, death is a promotion." Vile purple magic shrieked out at the High General, all reaching out to pierce his chest. "But FoR You, DEAth is An ETERNITY!"
Darkwill's eyes went wide. He raised his hands up in defense, the souls of the damned flying to his aid.
A horrid screech was then heard, followed by a surge of green magical energy exploding from within the tent. If the glyphs were not in place, as they brightly shone, the blast would have been easily seen for miles around and was quite thoroughly dampened. Some sort of magical darkness quickly covered any light that tried escaping the tent, and the faintest traces of purple could be seen dissipating into the night.
Swain rose up from his seat and hobbled over to LeBlanc who was affixing her circlet back onto her head. "How much time has passed?"
"Time?" The deceiver laughed and grinned. "Time is relative to someone such as me. I would say...a minute has passed in total. Go on back to your meeting, my most handsome swain, and prepare to mourn for the loss of our leader tomorrow morning."
"I will come with a patrol, concerned for the safety of Darkwill's only to discover the tragedy that has befallen him at the hands of the Demacians."
LeBlanc caressed Swain's cheek tenderly, "I will clean up and meet with you in a bit, darling. Hail Noxus."
Beatrice flew over and settled herself on Swain's shoulder, preening her feathers. A hint of red liquid could be seen dripping from her beak, quickly snuffed by her black feathers.
"Hail Noxus."
Riven could barely see. She was in an ocean of red. Taking a step forward gave her absurd amounts of resistance. The liquid was too thick to be water. She reached down and scooped up a handful of the liquid, a human ear resting on her palm. She was in an ocean of blood. Riven took another step forward and felt a hand grip her ankle. With a hard tug, the exile saw the hand belonged to an Ionian she had killed. Instead of yanking it away, she allowed the grip to stay.
More hands started to grab onto her arms, her legs and her neck. Arms started to wrap themselves around her body as she walked knee deep in gore. Her right hand tightly held her sword, reformed and brimming brightly. All the corpses, all the dead whispered to her the entire time, "Why...Why...Why..."
Riven continued her trudge, various skulls and dismembered limbs floating by her. She remembered when this would bring her low, when she would cow and weep for the atrocities she had committed. Not anymore. Riven shrugged her shoulders forward, firmly securing the grasping corpses onto her as she continued her slow walk. Eventually, she came upon others standing upright. Men and women dressed in the armor of Noxian infantry. Riven raised her sword up, stared them in their face, and sliced through them. They fell before her, falling apart like ragdolls. Once they fell into the gore, she could feel them grip onto her and add onto the weight. She continued to cut a path through the soldiers until a child stepped in front of her.
Riven stopped. She tightened her grip on her sword and raised it up. She stared the child in her eyes, Riven's piercing gaze making the little girl quake at the prospect of death.
A soft voice seemed to waft throughout the landscape. Oh...My-lit-tle-sun-lit child so near so dear to, my, heart...
What strange lyrics. So foreign, yet so warm. So memorable. It almost sounded like...a lullaby, from long ago.
The sword was lowered. Riven walked past the little girl when she felt a sharp pain in her side. The girl had unsheathed a knife and stabbed Riven.
The exile gripped the knife, pulled it out of the girl's hands, and kept walking towards the groaning gates of Noxus, where a monstrous raven was perched. Their eyes met, and Riven continued to walk forward. More cuts, more lacerations, more of her blood spilled, she staggered from fatigue, but she kept walking.
Oh my child do not forget that even in the dark,
Riven took her first step on solid ground before Noxus, a human skull underneath her boot. She looked at its empty gaze and knelt down. Her fingers brushed the eye sockets while tears streamed down her face. Tightening her grip on her sword, she got back up, and took a second step up the stairs. Then a third step, and then a fourth step.
You, shine.
Riven's eyes opened. She blinked and let out a breath of annoyance. She had finally woken up, and felt like her entire body was numb. The exile sat up in the bed, thoroughly annoyed. She could hear voices from outside her door, though not what they said. Riven looked over at her side, seeing Irelia by her bed but asleep on a chair. Irelia's sword rested on the wall closest to her, humming as though it were snoring.
The door creaked open, and the smell of baked goods permeated the air. Irelia blinked awake and looked at the approaching figure. A thick miasma could be felt approaching them. Irelia snorted and wiped at her eyes, her hair a mess but her tone as authoritative as ever. "Morgana."
"Hello, Ionian. I decided to come by and bring these."
Irelia pointed at Riven who was staring at her, "She's still asleep. Go away, angel. Leave her alone."
"She's asleep?"
"Riven, are you asleep?"
Before Irelia could reply, Riven said, "I have awakened. Am I needed?" The exile woman looked around for a trace of her sword. She did not have to look far as her leg shuffled and was prodded by a heavy object. The sword laid in bed with her, underneath her bed covers as though it were a sleeping babe. How odd, she had not even noticed its presence.
"Riven, you're awake!"
"...Yes? I am?"
Irelia's sword flew up behind the Ionian while she got out of her seat. "I was starting to get worried. Are you actually awake, or...?"
Riven raised an eyebrow in confusion at the question. "...I'm awake. Why?"
"Not delusional?"
Irelia nodded. Her tone betrayed the concern she had for her friend. "You have been in bed for more than a month. The venom, the loss of blood, the broken bones, the internal bleeding, you had pneumonia from the hypothermia you experienced. You would sometimes speak as though you were awake, but you would not always make the...most of sense."
Riven reached up at her head. It felt itchy. Actually...her whole body felt itchy. She focused her eyes and stared at the white blanket that covered her. It was a fur pelt. She tilted her head in confusion, trying to figure out why a pelt would be here. Riven scratched the side of her face, making an orange bandana to flop down in front of her eyes. She pulled the fabric off and stared at it. The little gem it had pinned on it showed it belonged to a Shojin monk.
"Lee made sure your core body temperature was moderated while Udyr insisted to give you the pelt if you needed to be kept warm-"
Morgana interrupted in a mocking imitation of Udyr, "We think her strong enough to live, she only need bear rug and bare hands to live. She good, she need more meat, recover more fast like."
Irelia rolled her eyes in annoyance. She still found the fallen angel incredibly distasteful, but Riven respected her. She would tolerate Morgana for now. "He said it a bit more intellectually than that."
A faint grin played across Riven's face. She looked over at Irelia, her lips moving to apologize for causing so much trouble for them. It was a chance she did not receive due to the Ionian pressing her finger against Riven's lips. "No, no apology. We, the Ionian people, chose to do this."
Morgana's lips parted, showing her fangs in a wicked smile. "Does she know yet?"
Irelia shot a dirty glare at Morgana, her swords humming and pointing themselves at the fallen angel. Of course Riven did not know, she was delirious or unconscious nearly this entire time in the recovery ward.
"Know what?"
Irelia continued to stare at Morgana, scowling at the angel for being so blunt. She eventually answered, "...That Swain defeated Keiran Darkwill, and is now the ruler of Noxus."
Riven let out an aggravated sigh. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
"So what now, Riven?" Morgana crossed her arms, a wicker basket hanging off her left elbow. "Gonna give up?"
"No. Never." Riven's eyes flashed open. She stared directly at the fallen angel, her tone confident, her demeanor exuding with conviction. "I had expected such a thing, and it only makes matters more difficult. It does not change my path or what needs to be done."
Irelia shuddered at the horror that Morgana would commit in response to Riven's reply: The fallen angel gave the exile a true, honest and warm smile. "Good answer. Have a cookie." A black tendril snapped into the basket and took out a large, chocolate chip cookie.
"She just woke up, don't give her a cookie. She needs proper food."
"It's a divine cookie, sweetie, relax.
Irelia pointed at the cookie, her brow knitted. "That is chocolate chip, not magical nor divine."
"Are you saying my culinary confections are not divine in taste?" Morgana's smile disappeared. A sneer now evident on her face.
"I could not say so, since I have not ever eaten anything of yours."
"You've..." Morgana tilted her head, processing what Irelia had just said. "Well, you're not lying, but I'm surprised. You eat the cookie then, I'll give her a sticky bun."
"No pastries! She needs..." Irelia stopped and thought of what she was about to say. "Their soup is pretty horrible. And the nurses won't be back for a while..."
"Yesss...Give in to temptation. Do it." Morgana playfully waved the sticky bun in the air.
Irelia winced and looked at Riven, shrugging. "It's your choice: Soggy rice soup and proper recovery or a cookie, or a sticky bun, or whatever."
Riven's answer was a soft chuckle and a shake of her head. She leaned back onto her pillow, her right hand tapping against the hilt of her sword. "So that is my first choice, hm?" Riven smiled, staring out the window before her, the sunlight spilling into the room. She would have to appreciate this moment for as long as she could, before she started off on her path. Riven would not forget her experiences, not now, not ever.
Her hand tightened around the hilt of the sword. Noxus will be reformed, into the city that it was meant to be.
Awesome! A sequal! Very well written, I must say. Have a cookie!
(One small thing, in the part where it is said, and this is a quote: "Go on back to your meeting, my most handsome swain, and prepare to mourn for the loss of our leader tomorrow morning."
"Swain" needs to be capitalized.)
Just thought I'd link to A Blade Reforged for the 6 people who haven't read it yet
hmm I actually like this so far I love the beginning to, a bit questionable for me due to him never being found, as far as I know I may be mistaken. I don't know why but I think I left something bad in the previous story which is confusing to me but oh well I like this and will have to creep back to the first one to read through it since I have no clue what happened before aside from certain things..... I think there was an OC in it I'm not sure though oh wait ye there was but it was a blind super power house old man I think.... eh I don't remember anyway good job.
Chapter 1
"All hail Grand General Swain."
Sixteen men dressed in the garbs of a Noxian general stood up in respect. The table they sat at was made of ancient acacia trees from the Plague Jungles, the few they had managed to bring to Noxus before the jungle's guardian started to pick them off. The chairs were made of Noxian maple trees, inlaid with ivory and gold. On the south wall, a large slab of transparent crystal rested on a series of bolts and screws. There were fewer occupants of these chairs than people themselves. Depictions of Boram Darkwill's campaigns still hung on cloth and picture frames upon the walls. Such remnants of Darkwill's tastes still littered the room, making his presence palpable. The room, to say the very least, was elegant.
The large mahogany doors were already ajar, and under their frame stood the new Grand General. Swain was dressed in the traditional red robes of Noxus' leader. The dark armor that adorned his body was finely polished to a high shine, and the helmet that rested on his head masked most of his facial features save for his piercing red eyes. On his left shoulder plate his raven, Beatrice, was perched on the modified armor piece. The bird would stare at everyone at least once with her the red-glowing sets of eyes. In his right hand, instead of his cane, he carried a long golden staff that ended in a masterfully crafted raven's skull at the top. Upon closer examination one might notice a green gem placed within the cranium of the skull. Atop its head, multiple prongs helped crown the staff with another emerald-colored crystal.
The Grand General walked toward his chair with long, confident strides, no sign of his characteristic limp at all visible visible. General Darius followed behind Swain, massive axe in hand, his eyes fixed on the Grand General.
Once Swain was arrived at his seat, he looked about at the High Council with slight turns of his head. In a low, commanding tone, he said, "Forever strong."
"Forever strong," they chimed their reply in unison.
Swain nodded in acknowledgement, keeping unnerving eye contact with the person on the opposite of the table while he quietly sat down on his seat. Darius took his seat to the right of the Grand General while the chair to Swain's left remained empty. The Hand of Noxis growled inwardly, fully aware of who would have been seated there, had they been present.
"Grand General," one of the councilmen decided to start the meeting. "What will you address first?"
Swain removed his helmet, revealing the black cloth that covered his lower half of his face. He placed the helmet on the table, leaned forward and tapped on the wood with his gauntleted index finger. "Reorganizing the High Council."
The men murmured to one another and nodded. "You have found worthy replacements that even our esteemed colleague, Darius, will not question?"
"I have."
Beatrice let out a loud caw, making the large doors swing open once more as a train of men quickly filtered into the room and occupied the once empty seats. The original members of the High Council murmured and nodded their approval. One of these seated people was unfortunately tapped on the shoulder by one of the newcomers. He looked up at the man, then at Swain in absolute terror.
The Grand General pointed at the doomed man and stated in his raspy, even tone, "No one takes from Noxus, General Pousse. Embellishing financial records will not be tolerated. Your estate now belongs to Noxus, your family will be evicted from their home, you will be stripped of your rank and you will be executed for your crime."
"B-but Grand General, I d-"
Beatrice pushed off of her perch, her wings unfurling as she soared over to the man, her talons outstretched until they met the flesh on his face. Once she was snugly secured, her beak snapped down when his mouth opened to utter assured screams of pain, allowing her to grab his tongue and stare at the squirming man with her beady, crimson eyes. Swain reached out with his left hand, turned upwards in askance, to his side. He showed no care for the trickles of blood that fell from Pousse's face and was now staining the table. A familiar deceiver stepped into view holding papers, not entering through any discernible door or any visible entrance, as though she had materialized from nothing but air. She handed them to Swain before taking her seat as well.
"Thank you, Advisor LeBlanc."
"You are welcome, Grand General. Forever strong."
Swain passed the papers to Darius, whose lips, upon reading them, cracked and fractured into a hateful scowl. He glared at the accused general. He reached out for his massive axe that, despite leaning against the wall behind him, was within arm's reach. Darius grabbed it slowly and dragged it closer to him with a loud, foreboding screech, setting it upright as he stared at the accused man. The papers were passed around the table in complete silence.
"Does anyone disagree?"
None of the other generals moved or spoke. With a sharp rap of Swain's staff, five Raedsel guards stormed into the room. Beatrice released the man's tongue and fluttered back to her perch.
"Grand General, I swear, those documents are falsified!"
"As the evidence stands, Pousse, you know the law. You will be given a week to compile evidence that says otherwise."
The man nodded, shaking all over. The Raedsel soldiers lifted him out of his chair and escorted him toward the door. As soon as General Pousse was parallel to Swain, he paused for a moment, violently sweating. He had no time to react when the blade of an axe was placed against his throat.
"Grand General Swain," Darius grunted. "Who found that evidence?"
"I did."
"Your word is absolute, Grand General. This man is guilty, yes?"
"Yes, he is. I however, am forced to follow the law."
The Hand of Noxus pulled his axe back and gave a violent kick to the man's chest, shattering his ribcage as well as sending him skidding to the wall. "Then I see no reason in delaying matters for this cowardly pig."
Pousse attempted to speak, but the words came as painful gasps and tears.
"On your whim, General Darius."
"The weak are not needed." With a broad, horizontal sweep, Darius' axe firmly embedded itself into the wall, leaving a sizable hole in the wood and stone frame, and decapitating the councilor.
Darius looked at Swain, who have him a silent nod of approval. The Hand of Noxus made his way back to his seat while the Grand General commanded the Raedsel men, "Take his body to the crematorium."
The soldiers quietly obeyed the command and dragged the corpse away. Swain motioned for the man he had designated in Pousse's spot to have a seat.
"With those dramatics out of the way..." Swain leaned forward, staring at the committee before him. "The Bilgewater match against Ionia. It is within the month, yes?"
"Yes sir, it is. Why?"
"Have the Noxians been chosen to help represent the match?"
"Not as of yet sir. With the delay, we saw no reason to rush the decision, considering the turbulence we were undergoing. The League has a proposed list of champions-"
"We will send them Katarina Du Couteau and Vladimir," Swain firmly stated. "Any opposed?"
The council shook their heads, they could see the reasoning behind such choices. And the efficiency with which he hammered these simples matters out was a breath of fresh air, especially when compared to Darkwill.
"Next issue: the Exile."
Darius' brows knit above his nose, his nostrils flared at the mere mention of her title. The word Exile to him was synonymous with the word "traitor".
"What of her?"
"She will be fighting alongside the Ionians for the Bilgewater match."
The entire council started to murmur with one another. "How should we react? This oversteps far past even her current crimes."
"We cannot, yet," Swain admitted. "I am simply letting you know that she will be in the match, and I want to assure Bilgewater's victory. I want only our most competent Summoners available for that day. Win or lose, I want preparations to be done in order to react then and there."
"Yes, Grand General."
"Now..." Swain leaned forward. He stared everyone in the eye, each for no more than three seconds, as his gaze circled the room. "I wish to speak of Demacia."
"What of Demacia?" One of the councilmen asked. "You nullified our peace treaty with them, Grand General, but the League will prevent war with them. They stopped us at Kalamanda and they will again. What can be done that will not put us into the line of fire for every city state who would stand against us?"
Darius grunted. Back then, that was when he started taking notice of Swain, when the current Grand General was just another general. Swain took the initiative after Darkwill's untimely death. Instead of that cowardly treaty, Swain was willing to fight against the murderers of the Grand General.
Swain tapped the table, his voice firm, "Demacia will fall within due time. Leave it to me and I w-"
Before he could say more, the crash of metal upon wood was heard. The stench of rotting flesh filled their noses. Although some of the men reasonably turned their faces away, most like the Hand of Noxus, the Grand General and the Deceiver seemed unperturbed by such a smell. The doors opened, Raedsel guards peeking in as a fat, gluttonous man lumbered into the room, a loud metallic clang heard with every step he took.
His obese belly was held up by spidery legs, his arms changed into horrific, disgustingly sharp weapons that were mechanical in nature. His bald face was barely held together by metal plates, a ventilation grill acted as his mouth which amplified the sound of his breathing, as well as making it easier for others to hear his constant pain.
"Grand General...Swain..."
"Yes, Urgot?" Swain motioned to him to step forward. "You are among fellow Noxians, Executioner. Speak your mind."
"You...You nullified the treaty...with Demacia. Will we...announce war with them?"
"Not yet, Urgot," Swain leaned towards Urgot. "That will come in due time, as I was saying. Demacia must be deconstructed first."
'Deconstructed...?' Darius did not betray the thought. He was unsure what Swain meant, but he trusted the Grand General without question.
"Will Demacia fall...by our hands...?"
Swain nodded in response.
"Will...Will I..." Urgot's right hand clicked, and shifted and changed appendages into a chainsaw. "Will I be given Garen...?"
Swain nodded once more.
Urgot's wheezing eventually accumulated into cacophonous laughter between coughs and gasps. "Good...Good...I like you better than Darkwill already..."
Urgot's lower half slowly swiveled about, making the process of him turning around look like a daunting task. He eventually was able to turn around and leave the room, his spider legs making a distinct thud sound with every heavy step he took.
Swain watched the undead creature leave, then regarded the council once more. "Back to the topic, then?"
Riven's broken blade impaled a pirate onto his own turret. He grunted, grinned and raised an orange into view. He took a solid bite of the citrus fruit while shooting Riven point blank. Only through a knee jerk reaction did she evade the fatal gunshot wound to her head, instead her armored glove coming up and absorbing the bullet. Blood poured out from the wound, but Gangplank knew when he was sunk. He let out a defeated sigh, quite surprising due to the fact that his diaphragm was pierced, and motioned to the Exile to hurry this up.
Riven twisted her blade, and with this twist both the turret and the pirate were cut in half.
"BLUE TEAM MEMBER HAS BEEN SLAIN!" A loud voice announced.
She looked over at the other Nexus turret still standing, aiming at the toy minions that surrounded them. A gentle, blue skinned hand reached over and rested itself on Riven's arm. A surge of magic issued forth and the gunshot wound disappeared.
"Riven, we will take care of this tower," Soraka said. "Do you wish to make your address?"
Riven nodded. She looked up and around, as if she was gauging where she would be most visible. She took a step forward, rested the tip of her blade on the ground in front of her and started to speak. "Demacia. Noxus. Piltover. Zaun. The Freljords. Bilgewater. Ionia. Everyone, everywhere, hearing me, from the Howling Marsh to the Voodoo lands, from East to West, South to North, I want you to listen to my words."
The Exile spun around, blade in hand, staring at the face of a familiar Noxian assassin, Katarina Du Couteau. The red haired woman, instead of lunging forward for an attack, motioned to Riven to keep talking. This was followed by a strange change in her facial expression, one of bored tedium to forced aggression as she jerked forward. Riven raised her blade, ready to attack her countryman when a minotaur stepped in the path of the assassin. Alistar pinned Katarina's face into the ground, cracking the stone she struck. The stoic minotaur gave a silent nod to Riven as he kept the assassin in place, despite the lacerations he was suffering from her attempts at breaking free.
"As most of you know, I am Riven the Exile. I exiled myself from Noxus during the Ionian war for the Zaunite chemical attack done on my own squadron, commanded by the Noxian generals in charge at the time. I committed many crimes, but the only one that Noxus will charge me for is desertion. How horrid, for all the people I killed, my crime in Noxus' eyes is that I deserted them. I deserted Noxus because I thought Noxus deserted me. For using such a disgusting tactic, for not letting the Ionians win the fight that they deserved to win, I deserted Noxus. Doing some of my own research, which I will compile, some interesting information came to light."
In Noxus, in the council room, the High Council watched and listened to the speech via the crystal slab. They looked at one another, knowing what she said was true, but this was meant to be one of Noxus' secrets. There were efforts to keep her from talking put forth by Swain, especially after her first speech, it was successful. They were at ease. Now? Now they would have to do a lot of damage control, but at least they had anticipated this. They had propaganda ready to combat this. Swain watched quietly and with some disinterest.
Darius frowned. He hated to admit it, but he did agree with Riven's point about the cowardly tactic the Noxian Generals used. They went against High Command's direct orders, and they thought to sacrifice good men and women in such an abhorrent manner. His axe shone, as though reminding him of what happened to those generals that did come back from the war, and how he dismissed them.
The fact of the matter remained: She deserted Noxus. It was not High Command's fault, but that of a few men. If she had come back, then he would have gladly joined her in the execution of those at fault.
"It was under High Command, under Darkwill's orders, that these self attacks were conducted."
Darius slammed the arms of his chair. She was lying. He knew that. Darkwill was many things, but he was not a traitor, he was not a spineless coward, and yet...he was willing to make peace with Demacia. Could it be that she was right? Her speech started to grate on his ears, her voice unbearably annoying despite the strangely warm, firm tone it carried.
"I have received letters. People ask me why have I not come back to Noxus." Riven let that hang in the air for a bit before clarifying herself. "Why have I not rejoined? Because I want Noxus, and Zaun, to answer questions. I want them to answer questions such as this: Was the Ionian war wrong?"
Darius' eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He was personally responsible for the final push for the Navori province, good Noxians died that day but they had won. They were victorious. His legion never failed.
"I think, and I believe the war was wrong. Not just the conduct of it, the actual war itself," Riven stated. The cries of battle and clash of weapons were audible in the background as she continued talking.
"We should never have attacked Ionia, and why? Because we gained only one thing: Enemies. What is the point of having strength? Is it to rule over all? Is it to become the indomitable champion, the slayer of the weak, the butcher of voices? Is that what Noxus is? How many allies does Noxus have? Zaun is a mercenary city-state, Bilgewater are allies by convenience, and now what enemies does Noxus have? Demacia, of course. Tch." The Exile shook her head, "How sad is that? I have to say that it is common knowledge. How wrong is that? Do we have more enemies? Ionia now, the Freljords, Mount Targon, and Piltover. We have enemies West, East, South and North of us, What is our response? To crush them? How successful has that been? How stupid."
Darius rose from his seat, he reached over and gripped his axe firmly. He was being insulted, Noxus was being insulted. By her, the poster child. How dare she!
"Let me ask this of Noxus," Riven said while moving her hand, pointing at the field. One could hear the return of the pirate, followed by thundering gunshots and cannon fire. The Exile dashed forward, barely evading the falling rain of iron death as she kept talking.
"If you are so strong, if Noxus is so strong, then why does it have the weak under its rule? Under its care? Why does it care about its soldiers in the slightest? If you are so strong, Noxus, if Grand General Swain is meant to be the ruler of a nation, why does he need soldiers, generals? Why must those we apparently dominate become enslaved? Why are they not Noxians, and instead are considered animate tools? Is that what being a Noxian is? Am I right for drawing such a comparison, that slaves are slaves and soldiers are soldiers? You may say no, but I think that is the common conception. I was an animate tool once, and I was called the poster child of Noxus. For me to have things like 'emotion', was to admit weakness, yet there they are!" Riven let out a sorrowful laugh. "Every single sentient being, they have emotions. Whether it is anger, love, sorrow, anything, they have emotions. Was I strong back then? No. I was strong in a different way, but not truly strong. Yet all the generals, the leader of Noxus himself told me, told us, otherwise. How awful."
Soraka backed away from Miss Fortune, who was advancing on the healer. A gunshot wound on her thigh made the Starchild limp while she focused on healing the more grievous hole in her stomach, the flesh quickly knitting together thanks to her magic. The bounty hunter cocked her guns, widened her stance, and started to laugh maniacally. Soraka winced, this was going to hurt. A gloved hand grabbed the Starchild's shoulder and flung her backwards, albeit harshly. The ensuing bullet hell that erupted from the pistols flew every which way, though Soraka herself did not suffer any wounds. Any bullet, stray or aimed, that should have hit her did not. Riven stood in front of the healer, her broken sword held out in front of her, attempting to use the flat side of the blade as best of a shield as she could to minimize the damage. The Exile panted heavily, her arms and legs missing bullet sized chunks of flesh that were cauterized from whatever magic coated the projectiles.
Before Miss Fortune could move, a kama flicked out and pierced her thigh. The woman could only let out a gasp of pain before Akali silently appeared behind her.
Riven took a breath in and pulled her blade free from the ground. She continued to speak while Soraka made her way towards the Exile, preparatory healing magic seeping from her hands.
"How does this hypocrisy work? How is Noxus able to stand, to fight, to breath, when its very foundations are laughable? When the people in rule don't care for the people who helped create Noxus and that it drives people away? The Grey Order was driven away by Darkwill, and I have no doubt that Swain will not welcome them back into the fold because they are 'traitors', like me. I am not a traitor of Noxus!"
Darius emitted a low snarl. A traitor and a liar. Soon it would not matter, he could see the positioning of the demonic jester that was quickly advancing towards her undetected. He would put an end to her nonsensical drivel.
"What is the meaning of strength?" Riven allowed this question to hang in the air for a bit before clarifying her question. "I love Noxus. I love its ideal, the strong deserve to rule, but what then do you do with that strength? Strength, in the face of adversity. Courage in place of what should make the strongest being cower in fear. Who deserves this strength? Only the select, worthy few? I am here, and I am saying that the Ionian war was wrong. I am saying that how Noxus was ruled, is currently ruled-"
A jack in the box appeared in front of Riven without warning. She took a step back, feeling the healing magic from Soraka wash over her but knowing what would come next. Riven would not turn around in time, she knew that, Darius could see she knew that, but she tried to retaliate anyways.
A cackle of laughter. The whistle of wind. The thud of a body.
The crackle of hungering frost.
Shaco fell face forward, completely encased in ice as his characteristic smile stayed plastered on his face. The clown was unable to move, but Riven could see the quick salute that Ashe gave her. She nodded to the archer and drove her blade down into Shaco's chest.
Fizz, a short fish-like creature, hopped towards Riven with a smile on his tricky face. He held his hand out where a fish materialized. He chucked the smelly fish directly at Riven, only to be intercepted by the Minotaur. Alistar took the fish to his face while dragging Katarina with him, who was still attempting to break free of his grip.
Riven glanced at Alistar, who returned her look with a thumb's up. He had this under control. Katarina finally one of her hands broke free of his grip and started to enthusiastically stab into her captor, but his thumb did not waver.
Riven took the opportunity to continue talking, watching Ashe advance towards Alistar while Gangplank fended off Akali near the Nexus. "-is wrong. That they are not representing what Noxus is supposed to be. What will the people think of me then for saying such things? One person, fighting, struggling, against all who say I am wrong, not backing down, not surrendering, and stating the truth of the matter for once?"
A gigantic shark appeared, seemingly out of nothing, and swallowed Alistar whole. The bull responded by uppercutting his way to freedom, showing how unbreakable his will truly was and shattering several of the megashark's teeth. Katarina, unfortunately, was flung off of Alistar and was catapulted towards the platform past the Nexus, often dubbed by Summoners as the "spawn point" for their champions.
This did not deter Fizz as he jumped on top of his trident and propelled himself into the air, expected to meet with the minotaur midair. Instead a shadow of death crashed down on him. The monolithic blade of Riven blotted the sun out as it met flesh and slammed him down onto the ground, cracking the stone bricks that composed it. Fizz groggily got to his feet and stabbed forward, piercing her abdomen.
When he attempted to pull away, Fizz quickly realized he could not. Riven grabbed onto his trident and yanked it towards her. This not only pulled the Tidal Trickster off his feet, but made a spurt of blood jet out from her stomach. He could see her sword now clearly brandished. The broken blade had changed, transformed. It wouldn't be right to call her sword such a term, for it would insinuate that it was meant to be handled by man. It was more of an obelisk of darkest obsidian firmly gripped by the Exile. As the blade came down onto him, Fizz could feel a harsh wind slice into his skin, through flesh and bone far before the slash itself actually touched him.
Riven stepped around the corpse of the fallen Trickster, and slowly pulled out the trident that was still embedded in her. A jet of blood, a flinch of pain on her face as hook on the trident's prong ripped through vital organs and flesh, followed by the sound of the weapon clattering to the ground was all that was heard while she made her way towards the Nexus.
Darius took broad strides towards the crystal screen, gripping his axe in his beefy hand. He almost mimicked the stride Riven stepped with.
"I love Noxus. I love its people. I have never stopped loving Noxus, for it was not She who deserted me, it was those in charge. To show my sincerity..." Riven stopped in front of the Nexus. She looked to her right and saw the other tower still standing. Alistar rumbled over and swung his fist back. With one mighty punch, he sent the defensive tower crumbling to the ground, an explosion of magical energy signaling its fall. The minotaur then made his way towards Soraka, who winced at the sight of the various wounds that decorated his body.
"I wish to remind you all of my first speech. About Ionia, and my views on that. To show my earnest, my honesty, my conviction, I will be going to Ionia. I am going to help with its rebuilding efforts. That is one of the many wrongs I will try and make right, as much as I can. I am going to help Ionia rebuild, I am going to help the Freljords as well, and in both places, I am going to speak with the Noxians left behind, discarded by Noxus, and I promise you all here and now..."
Cracks in the crystal screen could be seen forming from Darius' titanic grip alone, yet the broadcast still played.
Riven made it to the Nexus, only scant feet away from it. When she spoke once more. "I am going to rebuild Noxus. I asked you all what the point of strength is. The point of strength, for me? Let me answer that. Look at this field, look at what has been done." The sound of a deep bellow filled the air, followed by the whistle of artillery fire. Cannon balls dropped from the sky all about Riven. She would have to retreat away from the Nexus if she wished to minimize the damage, the advance of Gangplank and Katarina towards her evident.
Instead, she raised her sword above her head, and stabbed it into and through the wall of the Nexus. She used it as a makeshift cover for any of the metal spheres that wished to crush her, but offered no protection from the shrapnel that exploded about her, ripping and tearing into the sections of clothing and flesh that her armor did not protect. Riven kept her large, gauntleted right hand resting behind her head to ensure that no stray shrapnel would instantly kill her as she spoke, "Was I alone in achieving victory? No. Without these people, without comrades, without the weak, without the strong, without people, you are worth nothing. Without Soraka, Alistar, Akali, Ashe, I could not have achieved this victory. It was not my strength alone, it was and always will be the strength of the many that anything in life will be achieved. Noxus as it stands, should be the ruler of nothing. It should have no citizens, it should have no people following Her leaders because they do not deserve Noxus. They wish to embody personal strength? Let them fight by themselves in the League, what use are teammates if you are so strong? What use is an army when you can wipe out city-states with your power alone? I am strong enough to admit that I do not know everything, that I do need others to speak to, to converse with, to fight alongside with in order to attain victory in battle and in life."
Riven staggered, the damage now palpable from the amount of blood that flowed from her wounds. By the time Gangplank rounded the corner, he met the skull of a minotaur charging at his stomach. He sighed once more and braced for impact, which made the salty pirate sail through the air. Katarina flitted behind Alistar, sticking her tongue out at him when Akali stepped in her path and glared at her, effectively stopping her advance.
Riven turned away from the Nexus, facing apparently nothing but the Fields of Justice that sprawled out before her. Soraka made her way over to the Exile, healing magic seeping from the Starchild's fingertips once more. Riven gave Soraka a silent nod of thanks before focusing her gaze at the fields once more.
Whatever magic that was used for recording the match zoomed in for a portrait shot of Riven as she spoke once more. "I was a part of the Noxian-Ionian war, which served no gains and only losses for both sides. I chose to fight with the Ionians in this match because I am no longer a tool, no longer a weapon unable to think. I am stronger now than I have ever been because I fight for my beliefs. Tell me if I am wrong, in assuming this, but..."
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20. A Memory by the Wayside
Chapter Written by Angmar and Elfhild
Sixteen days had passed since Grenefeld was raided and now it was the night of June 9. The captives camped on one side of the Road in a little field shaded by scattered trees. The orcs patrolled the outskirts of the camp, keeping an ever vigilant watch. The Easterling cavalry troop under command of Sergeant Utana rested for the eve on the other side of the Road. Several miles south of them rose the dark boles of the pines of the Druadan Forest and the rocky summit of the Beacon-hill of Amon Dîn.
The Easterling cavalry had been traveling with this group of orcs and their captives for five days. The orc captains had resented the presence of the Easterlings but said nothing openly to them and grumbled only to their fellows. The women had felt a growing tension between their mannish and orcish captors and were greatly relieved that no direct confrontations had yet erupted.
"They lord it over us as they always have," Captain Zgurpu snarled as he shared a vessel of draught with Sergeant Glokal.
"None of them appreciate us," agreed the sergeant. "I'd sooner stick a blade between their ribs as speak to them!"
"'Cooperate with our allies,'" Captain Zgurpu spat out the words contemptuously, "that's what they tell us, but what's allies today can just as well be enemies tomorrow."
"And it's always them what gets the glory while we poor uruks get the guts."
"And there ain't nothing we can do about it," the captain growled. He took a long swill from the mouth of the wineskin and then passed it to the sergeant.
The sergeant's voice went lower. "We'd be better off if we were free of them all and acted as our own agents!"
"Don't say talk like that," the captain warned. "Even if we did, we'd be found soon enough and you know how that goes. But still I cannot complain too much. We eat, don't we? The booty is good, most times."
"When as we can get it and don't have to divvy up so much with the Higher Ups!"
"But I don't like them this close. You can smell the fear on them. They reek of it. Inside, they are afraid of us, but they'd never admit it. These Easterlings and Southrons think they are so damned important and regard us as brainless idiots fit only to go out and get killed for them!" His yellow eyes gleaming hatred, Captain Zgurpu lifted his fist in the air and shook it.
"I know, Captain, and more's the pity," the sergeant agreed after drinking greedily of the draught. "This new one, this Sergeant Utana, I don't care what they say. He's here to usurp our authority! Detached to help us?" he laughed disdainfully. "Help us do what? There ain't an enemy soldier within a hundred miles of here. Are they afraid the strawhead women and their squalling brats will attack us? They're too afraid to do anything!"
"Garn!" the captain exclaimed. "When you come right down to it, I see through it all too well. They don't trust each other any more than we trust them!" His brutish face lit up in wonder as though discovering a great truth previously unnoticed. "Whilst we escort the prisoners, the cavalry sergeant and his troop are to guard the women from any stragglers and skulkers that meander along the road. And for that matter," he added, "guard them from their own cavalry patrols!"
"You think that what's it, captain?" asked the sergeant in amazement.
"May be. You notice none of the women and girls are over at their camp tonight. I think mayhap our 'friend' Sergeant Utana has put the quietus on those nightly dallyings to give out their wine and sweetmeats. Anyway, only five more days and we're rid of them all!"
Indeed it was so. Alarmed at what he perceived to be a growing warmness between the captives and his men, Sergeant Utana had given his troop a stern lecture and quoted the Directives in detail. "Lest you weaken, though, and give in to temptation, my orders will take you out of harm's way. No more socializing with the captives! No interfering with the orcs in command! We will aid either the captives or their guards and that, gentlemen, will be all!"
But no reminders of stern Directives could prevent the smiles that appeared on tawny faces as brown eyes met blue in furtive glances and knowing looks were exchanged. Many a woman or maid of the Mark flushed deep crimson when brown eyes flashed and lips silently mouthed, "You are most fair." No directives could ever still the longings of the heart.
Night deepened over the camp and the fountains of orc draught seemed inexhaustible. Strong drink had inspired the orcs to sing and dance around their campfires, chanting their strange tribal songs. Sleep was never easy for the captives, for the regular patrolling of the orcs always made for uneasy rest. This night, though, was worse, for the orcish bard had found fresh inspiration and had composed what he considered his finest work. As he began to recite it, he beat upon a drum while the others passed around skins of draught.
If I were a chieftain,
I'd have me a throne
How would I build it?
I'd build it of bone!
The frame would be thigh bones
And rest on stout pegs
The seat would be elf skin,
And skulls would be legs
I'd fight for my title
And carve up a few
My dagger would be sharp,
My bow made of yew
There'd be a circlet of teeth
That sat on my head
Strung together with hair
From enemies long dead
There would be furs
Over the floor of my den
And filled with fine wenches,
The daughters of Men
Someday we'll all drink
In Edoras' fine hall
Men will all serve us
And orc's way be law
No more the outcast
For we orcs are strong
They'll pay us in blood
For every last wrong
The bad times are over
And our time is here
A few fights before us
And it's victory this year!
"Elfhild," Elffled hissed in a whisper, "does he never tire of his hideous racket?"
The two sisters lay upon their cloaks, facing each other. Though it was not discernible in the night, beneath the eyes of both were dark circles of weariness. About their heads were bird's nests of tangled, filthy hair which had not seen a comb in many days. Each was a shameful sight to the other, for to look in the face of her sister was just the same as peering into a looking glass. However, they had more to be concerned about than the grime which stained their bodies.
Elffled was in a foul mood and felt quite surly, though neither her sister nor any of the others in her troop were to blame. Each time she had almost drifted off to sleep, the riotous orcs would sing again and she would be dragged unwillingly back to wakefulness.
"Oh, Elffled, I do not know," Elfhild whimpered. "They stop for a while to catch their breaths and then they start up again with renewed strength."
"I hate them all," Elffled muttered. "Worthless creatures, good for naught but murder and malice."
"They cannot sing either," noted Elfhild, trying to be witty. "If pleasant voices as well as fighting skills were prized traits of a warrior, then methinks the forces of the Dark Lands would be greatly lessened."
"Then the whole world would be better off," commented her sister with a wry laugh.
"Silence!" a corporal barked out. "Silence in the camp! Not a peep out of you!"
"They seem to hear everything," Elffled moaned. "I hate them all."
"Me too," nodded Elfhild.
The orcish balladry continued until the bard's fellows began to complain. Then with a great outcry of grunts, growls and hisses, they bombarded him with scraps of rancid meat, bone and clods of dung, and his melodies were stilled for the night.
At last sleep came to the captives, though it was a restless one and oft would a woman awaken and look around in bewilderment, thinking she still heard the songs of the orcs. Then, when all seemed peaceful and at last their minds slipped into fitful dreams, the sounds of loud wailing roused the captives from their slumber. It was the darkest part of the night ere the dreary dawn and sleep would not come again.
"What is it? What is it?" Elfhild asked frantically, frightened by the plaintive cries which seemed all too dreadfully close.
With a grunt, Elffled rose up slightly upon her elbows and looked about, but she could see little in the darkness. Yet her ears did not fail her, nor did the ears of the other captives. Several ells away from her, she sensed her aunt and the others in her troop stirring about and murmuring, each one asking the same questions that her sister had asked her. There was a commotion slowly beginning to brew in the camp and they could hear the rising complaints of the orc guards.
"What is that damn moaning? Who dares break the command not to make noise in the camp until the horn has sounded? What is the meaning of this disturbance?" the orcs on duty cried in their coarse, snarling voices.
"Shut up or I'll call the sergeant!" ordered an irritated guard.
They heard another wail, a woman's cry, but savage in its sorrow. In the superstitious minds of the two sisters, they imagined that the sound must be like unto the cries of some unholy creature of the night or demon who lurked in shadowy places, in dreary forests or in haunted mountain caves. A shudder traveled down the spines of both Elfhild and Elffled like fingers of ice and they drew closer to each other.
There was another sobbing keen and then the harsh command of a guard.
"We'll hear no more of this! Close your trap! He is gone!"
A pitiful shriek rose up in answer, and then the captives heard the voice of Breguswith crying wildly.
"He is not! He is not! He cannot be!"
"Garn! He is!"
"He is asleep! Go away! Let me hold and comfort him!"
"All the comfort between now and the Return will do him no good! He's gone, you stupid wench, and there's no comfort where he is!"
"He will awaken soon, and he will be hungry when he does. Go away, go away! Give us peace!"
"Get up!"
"See what a fine lad he is! He is a good baby and cries little. He will cause no trouble. I pray you grant me privacy to feed him. He is so small now and he eats so little. Let my sweet boy nurse in peace and then slumber!"
"That's what he's doing now - sleeping forever. Get up, you mad wench!"
"No!" the woman screamed. "He is in a deep slumber but he still lives!"
"Mad fool," the captives heard the orc exclaim. Then came the sounds of blows and screams, a low moan and all was quiet.
The twins and the other captives in their troop could see torches moving from the direction of the cavalry camp across the road. Soon came the sound of hoof beats as riders approached.
"Officers," they heard orcish voices exclaim. "Officers approach!"
There were the sounds of muttering in low tones amidst the orc pickets on duty.
"Hold aloft the torch! Give me light by which to see!" the captives heard one of the Easterlings order.
"The whore is mad, sir!"
"No doubt that is true but will striking her bring her back to lucidity?"
"Sir, as you say. She will be hit no more!"
"Let me tend to her, lads, and my men will tend to the.... other."
Disappointment was upon the faces of some of the orcs as they realized the meaning of the Easterling's words.
"By all common sense," Sergeant Utana thought, "they are ghouls, just like it is said! They have no hesitancy to eat the flesh of a dead child and, doubtless, they would relish ours just as well! Were it not for their fear of their Master, they would turn upon us! If that fear should ever lessen... May the Gods protect us!"
Sergeant Utana looked down at the woman sitting on the ground, clutching her dead child to her bosom, and then across to the orc sergeant and his lads who clustered about him. By the torchlight, he could see the hatred and fear on their faces. Behind them were any number of orcs, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. He could not count their number.
"Never let them see your fear," he told himself he began to sweat. "Brutish creatures," he thought. "They would fight each other for the chance of fresh man's-flesh, though it be scant. Gods, how I hate them!"
He felt the temptation to draw his sword, but he knew that was a mistake. He must show them that he was not afraid. Most of all, he must show them that he was in command, though by token formality their own captain was in charge. "No mistakes," he thought, "no mistakes."
"Sergeant," he told the orc, "forget this piece of filth. My men will bury it and put a cairn of rocks on the grave. Then you and your corporals, come over to our camp. No doubt you would enjoy a change from orc draught and we have much wine. I shall extend my invitation to your captain personally."
"My sword," Sergeant Utana thought as he felt his hand instinctively edge dowanward to the hilt. He caught himself, though. "Surely they would not be so bold or foolish as to risk their all for the taste of a little flesh."
"Wine?" the orc sergeant asked in haughty tones. "You invite us to drink wine with you? Are you sure, Sergeant, that it is not a breach of some military protocol?" he snarled as his lips curled back.
Sergeant Utana wondered, "Will it be mutiny next? Are we to die here because of a question about a dead baby?" If it came to that, he knew that the two troopers with him could only take down only a few of the orcs. He must not let this situation disintegrate into that.
"Yes, Sergeant, we would all be quite honored to have such brave lads as yourselves share a cup or two with us before we set forth again on the eastward journey. And I might add," he went on, hoping he appeared to have the nonchalance which he did not feel, "the report that I send to the main army will commend all of you for your excellent care of this valued merchandise. Because you are all loyal lads and do your duty, I shall also recommend that your bounties be increased."
The orc sergeant's lips curled into an awkward smile, certain he had won some victory over the Easterling. "So much you will give for so little?"
"What is a cup of wine?" Sergeant Utana replied with a shrug and a casual smile. "I offer it not as payment but as a toast by one soldier to another, as comrades in arms."
"Sergeant, it seems we have an understanding," the orc sergeant laughed. "I will accept it as such and drink with you." The orc gloated to himself, "It is good to see a proud man of the East forced to give a little for a change. Of course he flatters me, but he and I both realize it! He is cunning enough to know that it wouldn't be well to make us feel as though we had lost face. I will grudgingly give him his due for that. It is not that I am afraid of him, nar, no, for I have no doubt I could best him in any fight. But why go to the effort when he's willing to give wine and promises more bounty! This duty will be over in less than a week and soon enough we will be back to battle."
"To Order, Rule and Respect!" Sergeant Utana exclaimed. Of course, he was only parrotting one of the stock slogans, but now since the situation had cooled off, he could relax. The orc captain evidentally accepted his enthusasm, for he echoed:
"Order, Rule and Respect!"
Sergeant Utana forced a smile, for he could not bring himself to shake hands with such a foul brute. "Now let me talk to the woman. I have no wish to hear her whimpering and wailing all the way to Minas Tirith. I have a phial of draught in my camp that will keep her quiet all the way and cause you lads no trouble. I will have my men bring the woman with us, and then after she has been calmed down, I will turn her back over to you."
"If you can get her to cease her constant ranting, you will satisfy us well enough," the orc sergeant replied.
Sergeant Utana turned back to Breguswith. He hoped his voice sounded cold, for he felt great pity for the woman, but he did not want the orcs to sense that. "Woman, take my word. Your child is dead. It is no trick to deceive you. The babe has been gone for hours and is long cold. You hold a dead infant in your arms, and though your breasts were full to overflowing with milk, you could not bring him life!"
"No! He is not!" she screamed as she clutched her head and tried to tear the hair from her scalp.
"I have seen to the burial of your child," Utana calmly told her. "You have no fear there. By my order, his grave will be undisturbed. You have my word of honor as an officer for that."
"But he is not dead, I tell you!"
"Come, woman. No harm shall befall you."
With a look to the orcs, he helped her to her feet. "Tell me about your child," he said to her. "What was his name?"
She looked up at him, her tears glistening in the light of the torch. "His name was..."
Those were the last words that were clear to Elfhild and Elffled as Sergeant Utana led Breguswith aside.
The captives watched from a distance as two Easterling troopers prepared a cairn for the baby. When the last rock was placed upon the small grave, an officer lifted the distraught mother to his saddle and then mounted behind her. She moaned piteously and buried her face in her hands. When the captives last caught sight of her, the officer was steadying her in the saddle as the torches meandered away across the road to the cavalry camp.
The camp settled down at last and it seemed that the captives had scarcely closed their eyes ere the horn was sounded for breakfast. After the sparce breakfast had been consumed, once again the captives were tied in their places in the column. This was the same monotonous ritual that they had been forced to follow every morning for over a fortnight. Near the roadside they saw the freshly turned dirt and a cairn of stone over the small barrow of the dead child. As they passed that lonely place, they wept in grief and sadness, mourning for their friend and the loss of her baby.
Breguswith did not march with the rest of the captives that day, and when they saw her again, she was riding atop one of the Easterlings' horses. Cloaked and hunched over, she gently swayed in the saddle as one of the men led her horse. She neither knew nor care any more who she was or where she was bound. Her mind was lost in a misty haze of flowery oblivion, the calming draught made from the sap of poppies greatly dulling the keen edge of her sorrow. Yet still the other captives mourned in her stead.
And so another uneventful day's march was recorded in the officers' books.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Research fund pledge critical for sector, universities say
PUBLISHED: 13 May 2014 04:56:00 | UPDATED: 13 May 2014 15:11:37PUBLISHED: 13 May 2014 PRINT EDITION: 13 May 2014Tim Dodd
Universities welcomed reports the budget will guarantee funding for two research programs that were to expire next year.
The two schemes, one for research infrastructure and the other to pay for mid-career researchers, were funded only until June 2015.
It is expected the budget will allocate $150 million to the National Collaborative Research Infrastructure Strategy and $139.5 million over four years for the Future Fellowships program.
Belinda Robinson, the chief executive of the higher education peak body Universities Australia, welcomed news of the funding and said the lack of guaranteed money for these programs had made it difficult for universities to plan.
"We've been drawing this to the attention of government for a long time," she said. Ms Robinson said the schemes were critical to maintaining Australia's research capacity and attracting and retaining talented researchers.
The infrastructure strategy was established by the Howard government and funds some of Australia's most sophisticated research infrastructure in areas including materials science, optical fibre sensors, biosecurity, microscopy, big data, imaging and high-speed computing.
The former Labor government refused to give it long-term funding and kept it going with short-term injections that took money from other higher education programs. Universities are waiting to see if the extra money promised for it in this year's budget will be cut from another part of the education and research budget. Last week, Education Minister Christopher Pyne criticised Labor for not including the two programs in its budget forecasts and said he'd listened to universities' concerns.
The Australian Financial Review
Read more
People | Christopher Pyne |
Topics | Education, Science, Politics /Federal Politics |


text:
*Kid H*
- Superstar Feat. 'izzy
- 01First Song
- 02Track Number Two
- 03Third Song
- 04Composition #Four
- 055th
- 06Song
Who exactly is Kid H? He could be the life of a party or he could also be a loser. No one knows for sure.. Hernan has always been into music. Ever since He was a Little boy his mother would always tell him stories of his childhood. As Hernan Quotes..."My mom always said when i was young i would grab one of those horse on a stick, flip it over, and turn it into a guitar. i would blast Hispanic music as loud as i could and sang and danced around in it". Hernan said he became into rap when his five year older brother Abraham Carrizales had bought 50 cent's new album "Get rich or die trying'" "I heard the first track and I'm just like blown from my mind, at the age i was in i had no clue what 50 was actually saying but how the words just flowed with the beat...it just got to me". In second grade hernan wrote his first rap dedicated to his brother. he never recorded due to no mic or computer. It was only about 5 lines. But as soon as He read it over he know he could start something."I remember it like it was yesterday, Hernan recalls" I was in my bed with a note book writing poetry. that simple. When Hernan reached fourth grade it was then when he took it a step further. " I remember and my Reminds me to, i would get a sled tube and put one on he side of the room with a ping pong table in between created a small stage, i would get a toilet paper roll as a mic and danced and rapped nonsense all around my room until i had to go to bed". When i hit fifth grade i completely forgot rap. Idgaf about it. Sam for sixth didn't care .but in seventh i got my friend up and we created a group called "we got the blues" It was lil' h and Edson The Giant. (now known as reckless G) but back then we rapped very very poorly. we would go to the library and type lyrics,,,,print them,,,,bring them home and recorded on a simple desktop mic. i remember my first legit recording songs. called "This is how we roll know." After that i saved up and got a twenty dollar mic from big lots. i recorded multiple songs with it. including Hating Forever and music in da air. After Six Unsuccessful raps hernan thought it was time to give up. His mic had broke...he had little fame and was going no where in life. Until in early 2010 when hernan record two songs with underground rapper Jaime Pacheco aka crucial. they had a successful song the reached fame only in our neighbor hood. eek i needed more so inn In 2010 Hernan Had a feud with rapper B money. "at first i had like no clue wtf i was doing lol but as i got more and more into the dissing. i became a very cocky person" By late 2010 hernan claimed himself at the moment with his quote "I am the best in D-city". shortly after he made a song called DA BEST IN D CITY. with rapper ray ray only the song got no hype. After the battle i thought wow not only did i get more fame but i improved on my skill and flow. by early 2011 hernan was known in his grade level. as young flawless. int march 2011 hernan had his first mix tape "the one that's flawless selling over thirty copies the first week. " i gained forty bucks and more fame and i kept on improving. that same month hernan met up with rapper Issac Santana. " at first i was like hell no this dude whack but i during spring break he improved he came back to me with lyrics exploding. i was like f*** nooooo this guy is a monster i need him in my songs now!!! in may 2011 ill izzy had went to hernans studio to make the infamous song "straight up shooting' which successfully reached over 300 views its first 2 weeks. " i knew we had the start of something big. after that hernan has recorded multiple tracks with lil izzy reckless g and so far thus it. he has a up coming mix-tape called "S.A.M.BA.M" to be out by January 21st. recently heading show that lil izzy and young flawless made 2 new songs called ambitions and dreams which got little hype. and recently made a group called new era with jaylen col and lil Freddy only they thought hernan sucked and immediately kicked him out. making 3 tracks that were getting big. hernan thought it should be right to just drop it all. til lil izzy claimed "new era run this". run what?? hernan claimed. "its like they get a few views and a couple of fb likes and now they think there the best ever". lil izzy has became a mainstream person along with his crew. as hernans just sits back and laughs. but ass it all goes down lil izzy has realeased he will be adding a new name. or chanigin it. and so will hernan. its now not young falwless it is kid h.. he is now cool with new era and evryone else he really is on his way to the top. he has disres to havf fans not fathhis.....is....his....story.. "This is what i do and i went ahead and did it. Go ahead and say your shit cuz i will never quit it. we all call them haters but they should be called dumb bitches cuz they dont understand.. imma keep on spitting. It's just hip hop. Im just a kid trying to do what evryone else is doing and following there true dreams. but im diffrent youll see


text:
Lyrics Depot | |
Lyrics » Elton John Lyrics » Breaking Down Barriers Lyrics |
Lyrics Depot is your source of lyrics to Breaking Down Barriers by Elton John. Please check back for more Elton John lyrics. |
Breaking Down Barriers LyricsArtist: Elton JohnAlbum: The Fox Lyrics by Gary Osborne I recall how it used to be In my younger days I built a wall all around my heart To keep the pain away I built it tall and I built it wide I left no room for doubt Your love still found its way inside And couldn't get back out I'm breaking down the barriers Making up my mind I'm breaking down the barriers of time I'm taking down the barriers And loving what I find I'm breaking down the barriers that lie Between your love and mine I guess you know you were not the first You may not be the last But you have shown me a better way And now I'm learning fast You gotta go where the feeling flows I take it while it's hot You gotta give if you wanna get And I want all you got
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text: Who's that hot man in the love van? Why, it's Billy Castro, on the hunt for femmes! This pervy tattooed transman's search quickly yields naughty new girlfriends who come, squirt, and get down on his silicone dick. With sexy Seda he only gets as far as the sleek black sofa — they can't even make it all the way to the bedroom before starting a steamy session. Cute blonde Chloe Camilla writhes and squirts under Billy's thrusts, while nasty Ashley Blue likes it rough. Gorgeous redhead Calico Lane is left sweaty, spent, and happy. A must-see for female ejaculation fans, lovers of natural bodies and breasts, and Billy Castro lovers everywhere! Starring Billy Castro, Seda, Chloe Camilla, Ashley Blue, and Calico Lane. Directed by Billy Castro. 60 minutes.


text:
How do I enter 2016?
Entry to the Cape Rouleur 2016 will open on 9 March 2015 at midday. Payment can be made in instalments or made in full. Entries can only be performed online.
"Official Finisher" Status
To be classified as an "Official Finisher" you will need to ride the entire event in one of the seeded groups. Exceptions are made where you may be receiving mechanical or medical attention in a support vehicle.
You will not be classified as an Official Finisher if:
What are the dates of the event?
What is included in the entry?
Included in your entry fee is:
- Rolling road closures
- Mechanics and technical support
- Paramedic and ambulance support
- Motorbike outriders and lead cars
- Timing and rider race number
- Professional support crew
- Airport shuttle for rider, partner and bike to Franschhoek, at set times (excluding Basic Entry package) or
- Transportation from central Cape Town for rider, partner and bike to Franschhoek, at set time (excluding Basic Entry package)
- Accommodation (excluding Basic Entry package) from Sunday 1st to Thursday 5th (4 nights)
- Celebration Braai & Presentation
- Celebration drinks & nibbles on arrival to Cape Town after Festival Ride
- Digital photos and film
- Event t-shirt for all riders
Arrival - Sunday 1 March
- Airport shuttle for rider, partner and bike to Franschhoek (at set times) or
- Transportation from central Cape Town for rider, partner and bike to Franschhoek (at set times)
- Overnight hotel/guest house accommodation (excluding Basic Entry options)
Sign On, Rider Briefing & Prologue - Sunday 1 March
- Breakfast (excluding Entry Only options)
- Event t-shirt
- Timing Chip
- Rider Numbers and Musette
- Overnight hotel/guest house accommodation (excluding Basic Entry options)
Stage 1 - Monday 2 March
- Breakfast (excluding Basic Entry options)
- Lunch
- Overnight hotel/guest house accommodation (excluding Basic Entry options)
Stage 2 - Tuesday 3 March
- Breakfast (excluding Basic Entry options)
- Lunch
- Overnight hotel/guest house accommodation (excluding Basic Entry options)
Stage 3 - Wednesday 4 March
- Breakfast (excluding Basic Entry options)
- Lunch
- Finishers Medal
- Celebration Braai & Presentation
- Overnight hotel/guest house accommodation (excluding Basic Entry options)
Festival Ride - Thursday 5 March
- Breakfast (excluding Basic Entry options)
- Lunch
- Champagne & canapés on arrival to Cape Town
Not included in your entry:
- Flights
- Dinner, other than Celebration Braai
- Alcohol and drinks
- Components, spare parts
- Massages
- Travel insurance
What are the accommodation options?
Click here for the entry and accommodation options.
There are accommodation options ranging from 5 Star Hotel Spa to 4 Star Guest Houses in Franschhoek, all in close proximity to the Start/Finish Village. Your entry can be for a single room (limited in number), sharing with another rider and we also have an option for you to bring along a non riding partner.
There is an option to enter without accommodation and airport/city transfers, but be included at the Celebration Braai and Festival Ride with finish line hospitality in Cape Town.
What am I letting myself into?
This is a multi stage event requiring a high level of fitness. A pro style event with full professional support and rolling road closures, it is the closest you can get to riding one of the Grand Tours. The HotChillee Global Series of events does however have a great deal of camaraderie. The combination of having flagged race sections and tempo peloton riding imbetween has developed a massive following in Europe. The final day (Thursday) is a Festival Ride back to Cape Town, but still has rolling road closures and a wonderful social atmosphere.
What if I don't know anyone else riding?
HotChillee has a wonderful social network. You will meet many new friends, business contacts, ride partners and all will share your passion for cycling. There are no barriers to mixing and interacting. To make it simple for all - just be the first to greet and introduce yourself and the rest will fall into place.
Can my non participating partner come too?
We offer a number of accommodation options which cater for a rider and their non riding partner. There is plenty to do in and around Cape Town, for detailed information please click here. Franschhoek itself has a variety of beautiful boutiques, galleries, restaurants and vineyards to explore. It is known as the heart of gastronomy and wine in the country. For some ideas of what else to do whilst visiting Franschhoek please click here.
What is the closest airport?
Cape Town. We will have a bus system at pre-arranged times from the airport to Franschhoek on Saturday 28 February and Sunday 1 March. We will also have a transfer from central Cape Town to Franchhoek on both days. This includes the transfer of your bicycles, luggage and any non riding partners.
What are the times of the airport transfers?
Saturday 28 February & Sunday 1 March
How can I book accommodation after the event so I can ride the Cape Town Cycle Tour?
To assist you with your accommodation needs from Thursday 5th March we recommend Accolade Travel www.accolades4u.co.za. To contact them please email Carla Napoli at firstname.lastname@example.com or call on +27 (0) 83 275 3066.
What kind of bike may I ride?
The event is restricted to roadworthy road bicycles only. If you are in any doubt then contact the organisers whose decision is final. The ride takes place on tarred or cobbled roads.
Note that no bicycle is permitted to have unconventional handlebars including triathlon bars, aero bars, clip-ons, prayer bars, and cow bars.
Can I hire a bike in SA?
The demand for renting bicycles in Cape Town at this time will be very high due to the Cape Town Cycle Tour, so if you are interested in this option we suggest you book quickly. We recommend John O'Connor Cycles Tel: +27 (0) 21 434 7741 http://www.joccycles.co.za/contact.htm
May I ride for a charity?
Yes, many riders raise money for their chosen charity. Our charity partners can be found at www.caperouleur.com/charities.
Who can enter?
Anyone 18 years or older on Sunday 1 March, 2015 may enter. If you are in doubt as to your fitness then you must have a medical check-up first.
What Insurance guidelines do you have?
We ask that all riders take out travel insurance and recommend our Insurance Partner Insignia. Travel Insurance and/or Medical Aid details must be added to your Waiver document and presented at Sign On.
What happens if I need to cancel my entry?
If you need to cancel your entry before the 21st December 2014 you will receive a full refund less a £200 (ZAR 3,500) administrative fee providing HotChillee are able to fill your entry. Any cancellations after this date will not be eligible for any refund. Please note that you may not transfer your entry to another rider.
When and where does Sign On take place?
Sign On will take place on Sunday 1 March from the HotChillee Village, Franschhoek Monument, Entrance Middagkrans Road off Excelslor. Sign Opens at 12:00 noon and closes at 16:30.
When and where does the rider Briefing take place?
The Rider Briefing will take place at 17:00 on Sunday 1 March from the HotChillee Village, Franschhoek Monument, Entrance Middagkrans Road off Excelslor.
When and what is the Prologue?
A Prologue will take place after the Rider Briefing from the HotChillee Village. This will be a short out and back time trial from Franshhoek over rolling terrain. All riders will be timed and based on your time you will be seeded into one of four groups. Group 1 being the fastest riders and Group 2 second fastest and so on. This will help to ensure that you are riding with fellow riders of commensurate ability.
Will my group change?
The decision to move riders from one group to another during the event is at the sole discretion of the Commissaire and Ride Captains. If it is found that your ability greatly exceeds your group and you will be moved to a faster group. Of course the reverse is true as well.
What are the average speeds?
There will be a minimum of four groups based on both ability and experience.
By rolling course we mean tarred roads with hills, not mountains.
Where do I store my bike and bike box?
Your bikes should be stored at your hotel or guest house. Empty bike boxes should be left at the Rider Briefing on Sunday 1st and they will be taken by DHL and stored securely in a warehouse. Bike Boxes will be returned to you at the finish location in Cape Town on Thursday 5th March.
How will my luggage and bike box be repatriated to me in Cape Town?
Any luggage will be transported from Franschhoek back to the finish location on Thursday 5 March. Your empty bike boxes will also be returned to you at the finish venue. If you have a non-participating partner with you on the event we will bring them back to the finish in Cape Town to greet you.
I am not familiar with the event format with flagged sections?
The event consists of multiple road stages, with seeded groups all with their own lead, support cars, crew and rolling road closures. Each day there are flagged sections (yellow=GC, red=Climbing, green=Sprint). Your aggregate times for the yellow or points for the sprint/climb determine your ranking for the leaders jerseys in Group 1. After the flagged sections the peloton rides tempo to the next race sections.
Who manages the ride?
The ride is managed by the Commissaire and ultimately the Event Director. Any decision by the Commissaire is final.
What is the Festival Ride?
The final day (Thursday) is a fun ride back to Cape Town with rolling road closures and a great drinks reception at the finish on the waterfront. A great emotional entrance into Cape Town, with Table Mountain as a magnificent backdrop it leaves a lasting impression. With many more charity partners joining us it is great way to end off the testing previous days and get to know more people.
How can I ride the Cape Town Cycle Tour?
You can purchase an additional option of a special VIP Entry Package for the Cape Town Cycle Tour on Sunday 8 March. This package includes a seeded entry, VIP hospitality and gifts. This option is only available to riders of the Cape Rouleur.
What do I wear?
Helmets complying with international safety standards are compulsory for the duration of the ride. Closed cycling shoes (no fancy sandals), shorts and jerseys are also recommended for your safety.
It is recommended that you take 4 sets of cycling kit and a plastic bag for the dirty clothes! At this time of the year in Western Cape the daytime temperature is 25-35 Deg Celsuis. Bear in mind that the morning can be cooler.
Be sure to include a lightweight rain jacket - with global warming you never know! Post riding, (and evening wear) dress is casual.
What's this I've heard about rolling road closures!?
It is true there will be rolling road closures!
Personal Stereos and Headsets
For safety reasons they are not permitted whilst riding.
Musette Service
If you require items during the day please use the Musettes as provided by the service vehicle.
Cyclists must ensure that their bags are labeled with their names and addresses. Every care will be taken to ensure that the bags are safeguarded. However, cyclists are advised not to leave expensive, valuable items in their bags, as the organisers cannot take responsibility for any losses.
Lost Property
We will have a lost property box located next to the "Information" banner. Please place or retrieve lost property from here. Lost property will be kept for 1 week after the event, and thereafter donated to charity. Any postal or couriered returns will be charged for.
Do we have mechanics?
Yes we have a full mechanics service for each group. This service headed up by HotChillee's Head Mechanic Graeme Freestone-King. The service runs from fully fitted vans and thus most repairs will able to be facilitated. The service is available to deal with bike repairs/failures and problems. There will also be spare bikes and numerous spare wheels.
The "Bike Gear Hangar" finesse
When travelling we recommend that you take a spare bike gear hanger for your bike. These days there are literally thousands of variations and you many find that having a spare whilst travelling gets you out of a tricky situation!
...and what happens if I puncture?
Let's hope that you do not puncture! Please try and ensure that you are using new tyres and tubes as this greatly reduces the chance of puncture. Let the group know that you have punctured. Let your support van know that you have a puncture.
If you have lost the group, the support van will drop you off with the group again.
There may of course be a situation with loads of punctures for whatever reason. Thus be sure to carry one tube and CO2 canister at least, so that you can effect the repair yourself. We strongly recommend your bike is fully serviced before the event.
How do I pay for tubes, spares etc used?
We use a "chit" system. All you need to do is sign for the items and your credit card will be charged after the event. In order to use this service you will need to sign a form at Sign On acknowledging that you will be using this service.
Where do I keep my sun cream, wallet, and other small items?
The support van will have musettes available. These are small bags. You can keep items that you may wish to access during the day in this bag, and it will be kept in the support van. It might be useful to keep a dry top etc in the musette.
What about lunch and nutrition on route?
Each day we have a lunch stop. Lunch is included and consists of endurance related foods. We have a very small amount of PowerBar products available to purchase at Sign On so please bring nutrition for the ride itself.
Were can I eat in the evening in Franschhoek?
There is great variety of restaurants in Franschhoek and many get booked up in advance.
Three of Franschhoeks finest restaurants still have availability for dinner reservations during the Cape Rouleur, but you need to book asap.
Ruben's email@example.com Tel: 0027 21 876 3772
Le Quartier Francais firstname.lastname@example.com Tel: 0027 21 876 2151
Ryan's Kitchen email@example.com Tel: 0027 21 876 4598
Please contact the restaurants direct to make a booking.


text:
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text:
Beef Rib Roast with Creamy Horseradish Sauce
From Good Housekeeping
triple-tested at the Good Housekeeping Research Institute
This roast doesn't produce enough pan drippings to make gravy for ten, so we made a delicious horseradish sauce to serve instead.
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Nutritional Information
(per serving)
Calories | 410 |
Total Fat | 29g |
Saturated Fat | 12g |
Cholesterol | 97mg |
Sodium | 295mg |
Total Carbohydrate | 1g |
Dietary Fiber | -- |
Sugars | -- |
Protein | 35g |
Calcium | -- |
Serves: 10
Total Time: 3 hr 15 min
Prep Time: 15 min
Cook Time: 3 hr
Oven Temp: 325
U.S. | Metric | Conversion chart |
- 1 (small end) 3-rib beef rib roast (about 7 pounds), with chine bone removed
- 3 tablespoon(s) whole tricolor peppercorns (red, green, and black)
- 1 teaspoon(s) salt
- In medium roasting pan (about 14" by 10"), place beef rib roast, fat-side up. In mortar with pestle, crush peppercorns with salt. Rub peppercorn mixture over roast. Insert meat thermometer into center of roast, being careful that pointed end of thermometer does not touch bone.
- Roast beef in 325 degrees F oven until meat thermometer reaches 140 degrees F (about 20 minutes per pound). Internal temperature of meat will rise to 145 degrees F (medium-rare) upon standing. Or, roast to desired doneness.
- When beef is done, place on warm large platter and let stand 15 minutes for easier carving. Meanwhile, prepare Creamy Horseradish Sauce.
- CREAMY HORSERADISH SAUCE: In small bowl, mix one 6-ounce jar prepared white horseradish, drained, 1/2 cup mayonnaise, 1 teaspoon sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Whip 1/2 cup heavy or whipping cream; fold into horseradish mixture. Makes about 1 2/3 cups. Each tablespoon sauce: About 50 calories, 0 g protein, 1 g carbohydrate, 5 g total fat (2 g saturated), 8 mg cholesterol, 70 mg sodium.
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