eefvix
poet
War goes by many names; conflict, battle, bloodshed. No matter what they called it, it would always be the same. This struggle, between his homeland and the rivaling country was over land- dirt. Where on a map some scrawny wristed aristocrat would draw the borders.
His home, Zedan, was a small but hearty country with a population of just under one million. The land they occupy was previously settled, by a people predating them by centuries. It wasn’t very rich, nor was it led with a particularly benevolent hand, but it was home.
It was Noxus’ home.
He was raised in their capital, taught their culture, their past. He learned his home was his identity and thus it was his family. With a strong love for his land and his people, he was one of the brave ones, the men who actually volunteered for war.
Back then it used to be hard, seeing the gore, understanding the meaning of pain and suffering. Seeing the light leave the eyes of the man he once fought beside, protected. Back then it used to be ugly, but as he lived, worked, fought, learned; he found war an easier guest to live with. Now it was an old friend, something to be thought of ahead, instead of dreaded. As months of active service continued his foresight grew. Learning battle tactics, certain patterns… It was not long into Noxus’ career that he understood his place in the war room; his seat as a tactician.
The room was loud, not an unusual occurrence. His hair was tightly bound to his head, his eyes pointed forward, always. Back in the field and back on active duty, Noxus was getting dressed and ready for the battlefield. The operation was going to be simple reconnaissance. Get in, get the information, get out. An easy rinse and repeat for him and his team. The slid one the thick teflon armored chestplate, completing the thin, armored, quiet infiltration suit he wore.
In all societies, technology had reached its greatest advancements. It was these very enhanced weaponry and finer materials that made their warm so hard. With new ammunition, new things to hit one another with, war was ever more gruesome than it used to be.
He slid back the entrance to his locker space. Fully dressed he walked to the exit of the dressing room.
A few others were still getting ready, the few members of his team.
Who they were, to Noxus, was unimportant. His line of work was never easy, they rarely ever kept anyone to the squad. Usually it would be him, maybe with an understudy along, and a small group of regular soldiers, there to pick off anyone who tried to interfere with Noxus’ work.
“Oi, nervous?” Called one of the men closer to him.
Noxus paused and turned to him, the soldier that had called, “no, actually. I don’t get nervous before these types of things.”
The soldier, Amber, simply snickered and shook his head. “Of course you don’t,” he snorted, “you never feel anything.”
He simply hummed, then walked out.
The ride was bumpy, the metal seats of the vehicle making for an even more uncomfortable ride.
A while back, during a routine border patrol, a group of Zedanen soldiers discovered an old abandoned town, suspiciously not abandoned anymore. The area was posted on maps, made aware of, and Nopxus was called in to investigate.
Their vehicle would park far behind their border, the men would walk however many kilometers, then wait in the treeline. Noxus was to find a way in, find out what was going on inside of this enemy camp, and then get out.
Under the cover of darkness, the group of men made their way through thick brush, the dimmest of light leading their path.
