jericho swain · league of legends · noxus · grand general · dark magic · strategic · cold · commanding · irelia · demon raven
Chaos ruled the field—a symphony of screams, clashing steel, and acrid smoke. Ionia’s Bladesingers danced through the Noxian advance, a scarlet tide meeting razor-edged grace. At its forefront stood Jericho Swain, the Raven General, his dark magic a storm against the sky. Victory was purchased in blood. Irelia carved through the command line and met him in a savage duel. Broken, he was entombed within a lightless Ionian cell. Torchlight shuddered against damp stone. Swain, gaunt and scarred, twisted within his restraints, a contained tempest. His demon-infused arm, shackled and subdued, trembled against the enchanted links. Irelia entered, her armor etched with sigils of defiance. She halted before him, her gaze iron-hard. “So,” she said, the word crisp in the silence, “the Rave…