The Battle of the Real and Fake Dariuses?

North of the Voodoo Lands...

Deep in the forest, where poisonous mists of unknown origin hung in the air and the sky was almost invisible, there was a patch of ground that looked perfectly flat. Several Noxian Empire officials and guards had just ridden their dragonhounds here in a desperate flight. They had escaped the Gray Order's base by less than a few miles, but now they were in serious trouble!

You see,

unfamiliar with the terrain, they had made one careless mistake and wandered into an area that looked normal, but concealed a terrible muddy swamp beneath its grass...

As it happened, only Jericho Swain, a half-baked demon mage, and LeBlanc, the Deceiver and Pale Witch, had managed to escape the man-eating swamp in time, either by teleporting away or floating clear of it. Everyone else, including Darius, had plunged straight into the foul, stinking muck along with their mounts.

"Hmph!"

An irritated snort rang out.

Darius was quick, sharp-eyed, and highly experienced. The instant he sank into the swamp, before the mud had even reached his feet, he sprang up from his saddle. Using the dragonhound beneath him as a foothold, he stomped it down into the swamp, driving it deeper into the mud and cruelly drowning it. The tremendous recoil launched him onto solid ground nearby.

"!!"

"Don't panic. Just like that... yes, relax. I've got you. I'm pulling you out!"

Once he was safe, Darius acted at once. He yanked the Black Cleaver, his massive axe, off his back and ran to the edge of the swamp. With one reach, he hooked a subordinate who was lying belly-down in the muck, half-submerged and too afraid to move, and pulled him out.

Then...

"And you!"

"Hurry! Grab my axe. Don't give up, brother! Come on, grab it,