And Talon was uncomfortable here. He took several steps from the pathway, next to the corpses of the slain necromancers, their flesh freshly boiled off by Morgana’s spell of dark binding. It was overtly evident that they were disfigured beyond recognition. Without hesitation, the Noxian dug his hand into the overgrown pockets of the dead, and retrieved from them sacks of gold and other miscellaneous items of import- enhancement potions, scrolls inscribed with runes of unprecedented power, and even a polished apple or two. ‘Well, you won’t be needing these anymore,’ he said, fighting to contain a sinister laugh beneath his frost-bitten breath. He flipped over one of the dead bodies into a still-active pool of Morgana’s wicked spellcraft. The viscous purple goop boiled and splashed with a sizzle as the body fell within it, and no sooner had he done this than the body began to rapidly disintegrate, bits of flesh peeling away as an onion might.
‘And... should I choose not to yield?’ asked Morgana. Looking quite unimpressed, Katarina arched her eyebrows in puzzlement. The scene shifted by in the space of the mind like high wire acrobatics. High risk situations akin to nascent auras -some concern or doubt, she cycled through various disaster scenarios, risk management like electromagnetic waves precariously spaced amid a sea of chemical discord. Angles of disillusion ricocheted off unseen window-frames, swallowed at once by darkness, only to be spat back from the void of visions, a place basking ominously beneath the neon forest.
‘Organic species should not be allowed to do such deplorable things to each other,’ said Katarina, eyeing Morgana with a portentous gaze. The Fallen Angel appeared to disregard the comment altogether. Condemning enemies to an eternity of suffering was intrinsic to her nature, a notion often belied by the innocence of her joyful smile.
‘Take heed of your own words, Katarina, as your actions have resulted in travesties far more damning than this,’ said Morgana, a mild haze of dusk-ridden sunlight sweeping through her translucent wings. The pathway before the party cleared, and it became evident that the attackers had retreated. The outlines of specters and other curious observers could be seen in the surrounding forest, but they were not malignant. These beings belonged to a well-known order of Ironspine protectors entrusted to prevent outsiders from locating secret techmaturgical excavation sites. Talon took note of a frost-blue guardian comprised of ancient, gnarled tree trunks. The construct, called into existence by artisan Summoners, ploughed across the snow-laden landscape. If in full stride, the rumble of the construct’s footfalls could be felt for many miles around.
‘We need to hurry,’ Talon said. ‘The snowfall’s only going to get worse from no until night, and there’s not much time. Askand is the closest town, so I suggest we take cover there for the night, at least until the storm passes.’ The others nodded, not willing to take the matter to debate. Like a hunter tracking prey, Talon stuck his hand over his eyes gazing ahead through the shrouded mists, and began to trudge forward. All around the snowfall worsened. Thick clumps of ice pelted the ground with a force that threatened to cause injuries. It wasn’t a comfortable situation for the Champions, as they were far more comfortable in the dead winds and mild weather of Noxus, but it was at times like these that they realized the diversities of the land, and revelled in them. Katarina wished she’d dressed more suited to the occasion, as her often revealing outfits were no match for the frigid Ironspine weather. Talon was the only one wearing the appropriate apparel. His black and gold Noxian helmet shone with the reflected brightness of the obscured sun dipping rapidly below the horizon. Morgana was treading carefully on the white-capped patches of earth, and was careful not to slip.
‘How much longer must this torture continue?’ Morgana asked. With her arms held crossed up to her chest, she was practically shivering. Talon took pity on her, and offered her his cloak. She refused. ‘It’s best you keep that to yourself,’ she explained, ‘as my wings would tear holes through the backside.’ Talon nodded, and clipped the silver clasps of the heavy black cloak back to his uniform. Due to the natural heat of her pure Noxian blood, Katarina was faring far better than the violet-skinned spellcaster, but the need to retreat into shelter was becoming ever more important. Talon retrieved from his pocket a solid gold medallion that he’d looted from one of the mages earlier on the road. It was still glowing faintly with an unknown spellcraft, and he tried for a moment to decipher the runes on its surface. The shapes looked to be like trees mixed with cross symbols and round balls – possibly a sign of the coming eternal winter that was superstitiously feared throughout the city-states. As had been transcribed in Frejordian Lore, the season known as the Eternal Winter would bring forth harrowing destruction on all the northern lands of Valoran by first depriving them of sunlight, and then devouring them under miles of frigid ice.
‘Take heed of your own words, Katarina, as your actions have resulted in travesties far more damning than this,’ said Morgana, a mild haze of dusk-ridden sunlight sweeping through her translucent wings. The pathway before the party cleared, and it became evident that the attackers had retreated. The outlines of specters and other curious observers could be seen in the surrounding forest, but they were not malignant. These beings belonged to a well-known order of Ironspine protectors entrusted to prevent outsiders from locating secret techmaturgical excavation sites. Talon took note of a frost-blue guardian comprised of ancient, gnarled tree trunks. The construct, called into existence by artisan Summoners, ploughed across the snow-laden landscape. If in full stride, the rumble of the construct’s footfalls could be felt for many miles around.
‘We need to hurry,’ Talon said. ‘The snowfall’s only going to get worse from no until night, and there’s not much time. Askand is the closest town, so I suggest we take cover there for the night, at least until the storm passes.’ The others nodded, not willing to take the matter to debate. Like a hunter tracking prey, Talon stuck his hand over his eyes gazing ahead through the shrouded mists, and began to trudge forward. All around the snowfall worsened. Thick clumps of ice pelted the ground with a force that threatened to cause injuries. It wasn’t a comfortable situation for the Champions, as they were far more comfortable in the dead winds and mild weather of Noxus, but it was at times like these that they realized the diversities of the land, and revelled in them. Katarina wished she’d dressed more suited to the occasion, as her often revealing outfits were no match for the frigid Ironspine weather. Talon was the only one wearing the appropriate apparel. His black and gold Noxian helmet shone with the reflected brightness of the obscured sun dipping rapidly below the horizon. Morgana was treading carefully on the white-capped patches of earth, and was careful not to slip.
‘How much longer must this torture continue?’ Morgana asked. With her arms held crossed up to her chest, she was practically shivering. Talon took pity on her, and offered her his cloak. She refused. ‘It’s best you keep that to yourself,’ she explained, ‘as my wings would tear holes through the backside.’ Talon nodded, and clipped the silver clasps of the heavy black cloak back to his uniform. Due to the natural heat of her pure Noxian blood, Katarina was faring far better than the violet-skinned spellcaster, but the need to retreat into shelter was becoming ever more important. Talon retrieved from his pocket a solid gold medallion that he’d looted from one of the mages earlier on the road. It was still glowing faintly with an unknown spellcraft, and he tried for a moment to decipher the runes on its surface. The shapes looked to be like trees mixed with cross symbols and round balls – possibly a sign of the coming eternal winter that was superstitiously feared throughout the city-states. As had been transcribed in Frejordian Lore, the season known as the Eternal Winter would bring forth harrowing destruction on all the northern lands of Valoran by first depriving them of sunlight, and then devouring them under miles of frigid ice.
The path became obscured by minions once more. Their wiry bodies were covered in a black, shifting substance that was in places was chipped and fragmented, coils of smoke were emitted like purple exhaust. The creatures howled with a scream that pierced the air. Talon held his arm above his forehead to dodge the assailing snow, but he soon realized that combat was about to begin. He dawned a pair of Stilettoes that were not dissimilar to the ones that the ever-jubilant Shaco was known to wield, and he crouched low, poised to strike the first of the minions once within stabbing distance. With a feral lunge, the lead minion tried to tackle Talon to the ground. Not even the full force of its forward assault could cause Talon to lose his composure, and the expert assassin soon found and exploited a weakness in the minion’s form. With a swift jab from both Stilettoes, Talon impaled the creature, and the weight of the thing was substantial enough to push him back a few steps. The darkness of its blood was disconcerting. No light would bother to reflect off of it, and it now covered Talon’s leather gauntlets. He tried to clean his blades of the residual filth, but the dark blood refused to be removed. Talon began to panic as tendrils of blackness traversed the length of his blades, and began to extend up his forearms. The beast itself was lying dead in a snow-bank, where a growing darkness could be seen beneath the corpse. Talon looked for the other two, and started to feel a pinch of panic.
Morgana kept several enemies at bay with a protective barrier summon from the void, producing a honeycomb patterned energy shield that deflected all incoming melee attacks, and it even provided a measurable enchantment of magic resistance.
‘Back, foul things!’ she commanded. The Fallen angel flung out gouts of blazing purple spell craft that fired in an outward plume as bright and energetic as a lightning cloud. Her long fabric skirt skidded across the ground, taking with it small mounds of snow that became built up into sizeable rolls. After a moment’s notice, the bolt soared across the glistening snow, purple reflections gleaming bright, and it struck the two minions with a resonating crack. Their bodies became consumed by violet flames, causing the outer layers of their skin to burn clean off. Their horrible screams were accompanied by the grotesque popping sound of sizzling flesh, and their eyes went from vibrant orange spheres to an empty black. She calculated the scenery and tried to observe for more movement. Spells cast in such quick succession caused her tendons to fill with tension, and her arms ached from the strain. When no other enemies could be seen, she dunked her forearms into a snow bank, where the cold frost brought instant relief. Talon approached her from up over the snow bank, wearing a grim expression on his visage.
‘Talon, are you injured?’ she asked, looking concerned. Talon was transfixed by the black mess growing on his arms, and he stared at it with worry.
‘I… I don’t know what they’ve done,’ he said. His words were shaky, expressionless, as if he had been possessed by entities unseen.
‘Stay still now,’ said Morgana, ‘this is an example of conjuration magic at work. I shall attempt to stymie the advance of it with my Aura of Perseverance. Stand there.’ She pointed to an area of space directly in front of her, and conjured once more the honeycomb shield. Talon felt a strange warmth fall over him, and he felt helpless for just a moment. The Aura was fast acting, and it cleansed him of the ailment in no time at all. The Aura then dissipated, and the blackness from his gauntlets fell languidly to the ground. Talon smiled, and Morgana gave a small bow.
‘Thank you, Fallen Angel,’ he said, the words escaping his lips carefully as the effects of the aura receded, leaving him with a residual feeling of contentment. Morgana smiled and placed her hands back into the snow. She wished that Summoner’s Rift offered such a relaxing convenience as this.
‘What does the snow do?’ asked Talon. She laughed at his curiosity, regarding the question with coy indignation. The Champions trudged through the deepening snow looking for Katarina. She was nowhere seen nor heard, and the minions had all but retreated. Talon wondered where the guard had gone. It seemed plausible that a larger scale attack was taking place elsewhere. Morgana stayed near Talon for warmth, and even conjured her Aura of Perseverance with a slight modification that allowed for better insulation. Snowflakes falling near the bubble were evaporated. The snow at their feet turned to liquid as they walked. Talon could see that she was using a great deal of restraint by utilizing this spell, and she appeared drained, so he withdrew from his pack a large elixir of mana replenishment. She took the mixture, de-corked it, and began to gulp it down, free of proper etiquette. Streams of bright blue fluid infused with a crystalline substance streamed down her cheeks and throat as she drank. She felt invigorated. The renewed strength caused the aura’s power to intensify to the point of indestructibility. Upon noticing the bolstering effect, the remaining minions turned tail to run. Whether or not their intent was to return in greater numbers did not matter. They were approaching Askand, a quaint trading village boasting a full regiment of guardsmen capable of slaughtering whatever force the unseen summoner was capable or rising.
‘We need to find Katarina, she’s got to be nearby,’ he said. ‘Last I saw, she was fighting the scumbags over that ridge where the road forks, perhaps we should check it out.’ Morgana nodded, and the pair of Champions made haste to the fork. As they did so, the sunlight became even scarcer, and the snowfall intensified. They needed to find shelter as soon as possible, and the nearby trading town was the best option.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And there was Katarina, locked in a chamber of tortuous implements, being observed by one of Vandrik’s right hand men, and also medical advisor.
‘Well, hello little Noxian, you’re going to tell me everything I need to know, aren’t you?’ he said with a cruel smile. The disfigured doctor was clad in a floor length lab coat of patchwork stains and various other blemishes upon his person could be observed. The spheres of his yellowing eyes were shielded behind circular fragments of polished silver, and plugs of gray hair escaped his head in a disk formation above his ears and around the back of his head. An old medical stand of stainless Piltover steel was cranked up to the same height as Katarina on the examination table, and the cruel doctor waltzed ever so casually over to it. He grinned widely, and withdrew from the table a bone saw at first, but this seemed not to be the proper weapon to use. ‘No, oh my no, far too messy!’ he exclaimed.
‘You’ll not get a single word of Noxian intelligence from me,’ proclaimed Katarina, remaining as strong as ever under the threat of torture.
‘We’ll, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we!’ said the Scientist. He didn’t have a name, or at least not to Katarina’s knowledge did he have one. For all she knew, he was simply some medically-crazed citizen obsessed with bone saws and bizarre concoctions of drugs. ‘Let’s see now,’ he said, fingers dancing together with delight, ‘how about this one!’ He eyed a vial of bubbling green liquid, and unscrewed the cap. Katarina did not look impressed, so she spat in the doctor’s face. Without so much as a casual chuckle, he doctor gripped her chin firmly between his thumb and index finger, and proceeded to unscrew the cap of the mixture. Katarina pressed her lips together and tried to spit again, but this time fell short. ‘Nice try, Ms. Noxus!’ said the doctor. The dull, freezing wind from outside was seeping into the shoddy lab slowly, and even the pelting snow was starting to find its way through the rusted iron bars up above. Katarina tried to talk through the tight grip of the doctor, be she found that her words only came out as mumbles of non-sound. Then, without warning, the doctor took the mixture, and shoved it into her mouth. She resisted the atrocious taste, and hated the smell of the stuff. It burned inside her, and her stomach began to erupt violently, sending shockwaves through her whole body – a tingling sensation that ruptured her sense of concentration effortlessly, rendering her senseless, unable to form coherent thought, as if her mind had been pegged by an electrical overload.
Morgana kept several enemies at bay with a protective barrier summon from the void, producing a honeycomb patterned energy shield that deflected all incoming melee attacks, and it even provided a measurable enchantment of magic resistance.
‘Back, foul things!’ she commanded. The Fallen angel flung out gouts of blazing purple spell craft that fired in an outward plume as bright and energetic as a lightning cloud. Her long fabric skirt skidded across the ground, taking with it small mounds of snow that became built up into sizeable rolls. After a moment’s notice, the bolt soared across the glistening snow, purple reflections gleaming bright, and it struck the two minions with a resonating crack. Their bodies became consumed by violet flames, causing the outer layers of their skin to burn clean off. Their horrible screams were accompanied by the grotesque popping sound of sizzling flesh, and their eyes went from vibrant orange spheres to an empty black. She calculated the scenery and tried to observe for more movement. Spells cast in such quick succession caused her tendons to fill with tension, and her arms ached from the strain. When no other enemies could be seen, she dunked her forearms into a snow bank, where the cold frost brought instant relief. Talon approached her from up over the snow bank, wearing a grim expression on his visage.
‘Talon, are you injured?’ she asked, looking concerned. Talon was transfixed by the black mess growing on his arms, and he stared at it with worry.
‘I… I don’t know what they’ve done,’ he said. His words were shaky, expressionless, as if he had been possessed by entities unseen.
‘Stay still now,’ said Morgana, ‘this is an example of conjuration magic at work. I shall attempt to stymie the advance of it with my Aura of Perseverance. Stand there.’ She pointed to an area of space directly in front of her, and conjured once more the honeycomb shield. Talon felt a strange warmth fall over him, and he felt helpless for just a moment. The Aura was fast acting, and it cleansed him of the ailment in no time at all. The Aura then dissipated, and the blackness from his gauntlets fell languidly to the ground. Talon smiled, and Morgana gave a small bow.
‘Thank you, Fallen Angel,’ he said, the words escaping his lips carefully as the effects of the aura receded, leaving him with a residual feeling of contentment. Morgana smiled and placed her hands back into the snow. She wished that Summoner’s Rift offered such a relaxing convenience as this.
‘What does the snow do?’ asked Talon. She laughed at his curiosity, regarding the question with coy indignation. The Champions trudged through the deepening snow looking for Katarina. She was nowhere seen nor heard, and the minions had all but retreated. Talon wondered where the guard had gone. It seemed plausible that a larger scale attack was taking place elsewhere. Morgana stayed near Talon for warmth, and even conjured her Aura of Perseverance with a slight modification that allowed for better insulation. Snowflakes falling near the bubble were evaporated. The snow at their feet turned to liquid as they walked. Talon could see that she was using a great deal of restraint by utilizing this spell, and she appeared drained, so he withdrew from his pack a large elixir of mana replenishment. She took the mixture, de-corked it, and began to gulp it down, free of proper etiquette. Streams of bright blue fluid infused with a crystalline substance streamed down her cheeks and throat as she drank. She felt invigorated. The renewed strength caused the aura’s power to intensify to the point of indestructibility. Upon noticing the bolstering effect, the remaining minions turned tail to run. Whether or not their intent was to return in greater numbers did not matter. They were approaching Askand, a quaint trading village boasting a full regiment of guardsmen capable of slaughtering whatever force the unseen summoner was capable or rising.
‘We need to find Katarina, she’s got to be nearby,’ he said. ‘Last I saw, she was fighting the scumbags over that ridge where the road forks, perhaps we should check it out.’ Morgana nodded, and the pair of Champions made haste to the fork. As they did so, the sunlight became even scarcer, and the snowfall intensified. They needed to find shelter as soon as possible, and the nearby trading town was the best option.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And there was Katarina, locked in a chamber of tortuous implements, being observed by one of Vandrik’s right hand men, and also medical advisor.
‘Well, hello little Noxian, you’re going to tell me everything I need to know, aren’t you?’ he said with a cruel smile. The disfigured doctor was clad in a floor length lab coat of patchwork stains and various other blemishes upon his person could be observed. The spheres of his yellowing eyes were shielded behind circular fragments of polished silver, and plugs of gray hair escaped his head in a disk formation above his ears and around the back of his head. An old medical stand of stainless Piltover steel was cranked up to the same height as Katarina on the examination table, and the cruel doctor waltzed ever so casually over to it. He grinned widely, and withdrew from the table a bone saw at first, but this seemed not to be the proper weapon to use. ‘No, oh my no, far too messy!’ he exclaimed.
‘You’ll not get a single word of Noxian intelligence from me,’ proclaimed Katarina, remaining as strong as ever under the threat of torture.
‘We’ll, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we!’ said the Scientist. He didn’t have a name, or at least not to Katarina’s knowledge did he have one. For all she knew, he was simply some medically-crazed citizen obsessed with bone saws and bizarre concoctions of drugs. ‘Let’s see now,’ he said, fingers dancing together with delight, ‘how about this one!’ He eyed a vial of bubbling green liquid, and unscrewed the cap. Katarina did not look impressed, so she spat in the doctor’s face. Without so much as a casual chuckle, he doctor gripped her chin firmly between his thumb and index finger, and proceeded to unscrew the cap of the mixture. Katarina pressed her lips together and tried to spit again, but this time fell short. ‘Nice try, Ms. Noxus!’ said the doctor. The dull, freezing wind from outside was seeping into the shoddy lab slowly, and even the pelting snow was starting to find its way through the rusted iron bars up above. Katarina tried to talk through the tight grip of the doctor, be she found that her words only came out as mumbles of non-sound. Then, without warning, the doctor took the mixture, and shoved it into her mouth. She resisted the atrocious taste, and hated the smell of the stuff. It burned inside her, and her stomach began to erupt violently, sending shockwaves through her whole body – a tingling sensation that ruptured her sense of concentration effortlessly, rendering her senseless, unable to form coherent thought, as if her mind had been pegged by an electrical overload.
And the mixture coursed through Katarina’s veins more quickly than the doctor anticipated. She cringed, and her eyes grew red, irises dilated, and sweat developed across the arch of her brow. The curious chemical affect reminded her of a time when she had been affected by Kalamanda jungle poison on the Fields of Justice, courtesy of Captain Teemo’s mushroom trap. However, the effect of this poison was far worse, and she literally could tolerate no more. ‘What… do you want… with me,’ she barely managed to say. The sweat was growing thicker upon her tense face, and it began to stream down the sides of her face. The doctor stood several feet away, twiddling his thumbs, clearly enjoying pain she was experienced. For one as sick-minded as the doctor, this was free entertainment.
‘Well now, being more cooperative are we? Good choice, Ms. Noxus, and I’ll have you know that the remedy is right here!’ he said. Then, he pulled from his lab coat a flask of sunlight yellow liquid, marked ‘ANTIDOTE: SERUM K.’
‘Serum… K? Katarina said. The mixture was outlawed throughout Valoran after its affects were recognized in a failed lab experiment near Piltover.
spill caused the nearby citizens to go completely mad, and in fits of hysteria they began to attack on another. Bodies of Piltoverian citizens filled the streets for days to come, and the Institute of War had even been called in to assist with the outbreak.
‘Why yes! How splendid of you to notice. Perhaps your more familiar with the effects than I myself, as you were responsible for requisitioning the use of it against Ionia,’ he said, followed by a wicked grin. Katarina looked shocked. ‘Luckily I managed to keep a batch for myself! And now, a willing test subject. It’s so exciting, it really is!’ The doctor clapped his hands together and approached Katarina with his teeth bared, looking like sinister splinters of tree bark. ‘All you have to tell me,’ he whispered, ‘is where your father is…’ The expression in Katarina’s face turned from shock to pure terror.
‘He… is gone! I don’t… know!’ she said, struggling more and more with each word.
‘But you must know, he’s your father! I smelled a cover-up from the first day he was reported to have ‘disappeared,’ and unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.’ Katarina tightened her lips, and her face was twisted with rage. There were times when she was a lot more inclined to kill another, and this was definitely one of those times. The drugs affecting her system caused her to think of things she might not have thought of otherwise. The doctor was scowling now, and it was true that he wanted to dispatch her quickly rather than drag her along through this ridiculous interrogation, but he knew that she was hiding something. Katarina tried to reply, but her jaw felt wired shut, paralyzed, unable to respond to simple muscle movements. ‘What’s wrong, cat got your tounge?’ the doctor chuckled with glee.
Just then, there was a loud smash coming from the laboratory window. Talon kicked out the sharp jagged bits remaining in the window-frame, and ducked his way inside. His feet hit the ground with a metallic thud, and the crisp sound of breaking glass accompanied his every footfall.
‘What are you doing here?’ implored the doctor.
‘I’m here for the girl, let her go you brainless sack!’ said Talon. The doctor scurried around behind his workbench, looking for something to subdue the assassin, but could find only miscellaneous medical implements and empty flasks. Talon most certainly had the upper hand in the confrontation, as the Doctor was a shrewed man with few fighting capabilities. His mind was structured around the business of laboratory work and medical experimentation, and had little much else in mind. Talon dispatched with man with a swift slice to the throat, and he didn’t even put up a fight. His body fell limp to the ground, pools of blood cascading out of the open wound like a miniature waterfall. The blood was not of human origin, as it was neon green and seemed to possess a much higher viscosity than human blood, which led Talon to believe that he was a failed medical experiment from one of Zaun’s underground laboratories. It didn’t matter, and he disregarded the thought altogether. He looked over to see Katarina struggling against the debilitating toxin on the workbench several feet away, and he ran over to her. She was perspiring continuously, and her pupils were heavily dilated. She looked at the assassin with an expression of pure concern, as it to convey a sense of hopelessness. Talon rushed to find a damp towel to rest on her forehead but could only find sharp things and other useless objects. It pained him to see her in this position and he wanted to find the quickest way possible to get her out of it. He searched and searched. He tried talking to Katarina but she seemed unresponsive. Her eyes were starting to roll back in her head, and she made a choking sound. Talon panicked, his palms went clammy, and the adrenaline began to flow within him. Something was seriously wrong. He stared helplessly at Katarina, and saw one clear sign that she was trying to point somewhere in the corner of the room. Talon looked over and saw a large vial with the antidote, and strode over to grab it. He popped the cork as he walked back to Katarina, and was careful not to spill any drops on the ground. He held the large flask up to her lips, and made her drink it. She gulped it down like a parched racehorse. It spilled over her cheeks, down her chin, and gathered in a little orange pool at the base of her neck. Her eyes returned to their original locations and her face took on a normal expression. Her body ceased from quivering. She could speak again. She could feel warmth, and breath. She looked at the assassin as if he were a guardian saint.
'What... did he want?' she said, the words barely escaping her cracked lips.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea, lady Katarina,’ he replied, trying his best not to lose his sense of militaristic dignity that accompanied his moral obligations to the Noxian high command. He relied on his sharpened daggers to the same extent that he depended on trusted companions, including Riven Desterrada. The wayward champion had placed herself into a self-imposed exile after the tragedies that had befallen Ionia all those years ago, where the skies were blotted out by countless waves of chemical death capable of eradicating entire populations-a scientific breakthrough made possible by Singed, the Mad Chemist, working in the bowels of an abandoned experimental laboratory in the forbidden, Shimmer-ridden slums of Zaun. The blueprints for the chemicals were kept under safe watch, and were expected to remain hidden, never to be used again, but it was not that simple.
The travesties unleashed at the behest of the Noxian High Command were something that Riven could never forgive herself for. She watched as families and citizens alike became consumed by the green fluorescent clouds of choking gas, watched as their skin bubbled clean off. The screams that haunted her dreams were of children, old people, the weak and the infirm, and the night that it happened swirled together like the black maelstrom with the same depth as an industrial complex located in Zaun, the hextech building glimmering with ancient techmaturgy. The shimmer addicts would tell you that there was no problem, and that the streets would burn with volatile substances regardless of acid content, not even wanting to show you the true meaning of hell, but that wasn’t the case.
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The sunrise was red, darkened bands of orange rippling through the Valoran stratosphere, and Talon was there, taking in the view from the upper balcony of the Sinful Succulence. The sun was shining over the horizon lazily, casting full-bodied shadows down upon the hazy streets. The weary assassin regarded the sight with a comfortable nostalgia, looking ahead with eyes filled with the reflections of stern, black Noxian buildings twisting ominously skyward. Aside from the occasional straggler heading home from a long day of work, the streets were barren, empty, completely devoid of sentient activity. The pubs were expected to be packed on this day, as the League day events were to be celebrated to the full extent, but Talon decided to withdraw for the evening and not allow himself to get caught up in the drunken chaos that was likely to ensure. For now, he preferred to sit comfortably on the squeaky wicker chair, sipping a large gray cup of steeped tea that Morgana had just brewed. ‘TEA TIME,’ she yelled aloud, and Katarina came running downstairs, her red bushel of hair frolicking sillily abound, in a matter of care not and she stepped footfalls forward ahead to meet the Fallen Angel, who was standing most precariously on a floorboard grid beneath her heeled feet, black heels laced calf-length sheen beneath candlelight. And the scent of Chai Spiced tea tinged the air, comfortable aromatics drifting listlessly. Luxanna was impressed by the quality of the goods, and she regarded Morgana with a casual wink, the faint curl of her lips into a friendly smile, and the firelight echoed in her beautiful blue eyes like tiny oceans reflecting sullen beams of flickering sunlight.
‘It’s nice to see you here, Luxanna, and I am pleased that you find my goods to be of an above average quality,’ Morgana said as she prepared another baking sheet for the freshly lit oven, where Srillex stood and held carefully a long wooden match. The cautious servant shook the burning tinder free of flame to create tendrils of deadsmoke, whereupon he eyed the uprising of the furnace with an undying curiosity. Since birth, Srillex was drawn to the majestic chaos of an open fire. There was something about the outbursts of raw energy, a process that could be harnessed through magic, occurring within a natural system. He imagined the chemical bonds breaking beneath the assault of energized ions, something that few humans were even aware of, but he needn’t burden them with his randomness. The humans cared not for that which they could not manipulate. The deviousness of his facial expression belied his systematic brashness, but the situation was still considered socially acceptable. Little did Talon know, there wasn’t a single thought in Morgana’s mind that even related to the infernalness of the thought. And so what if it happened? There were other options unbounded, and an entire world out there to touch. Nobody had to warn the situation and monopolised the confusion of the situation. Nidalee wasn’t there yet, but she was sure to be there soon. The Jungle Huntress proved her companionship worthy with Lux on that night in Summoner’s Rift, and it had made the difference between winning and defeat. Little did she know, Luxanna expressed a casual disdain in her absence, and she wanted to converse with the Jungle Huntress again, to share stories about their adventures in the League, during a time at which things had been exultant – free of design or doubt – worry and concern ironed away with the fleck of an iron-barred hot-knife, and little could be done to prevent his agitation, aggression, and she wanted to give everything to him, a curious thought, but one that he wouldn’t simply ignore. It was a situation worth investing a little faith in, keeping it held cautiously in his mind, bringing forth a relaxing scenario that promised perpetual bliss and a pretty cool life, or at least the possibility of obtaining such, and that was the humility of it all, the fact that this transcription was necessary to allow for the mental fixtures to accrue themselves inasmuch everything shone under the guise of clarity, and there was no point in attempting to deny that fact.
‘Thank you ever so much, Fallen Angel, you’re reputation for producing the most exceptional baked goods in Valoran is well deserved,’ Luxanna said, crossing her legs as she spoke. Her silk blue skirt was slightly ruffled from the feather-strength wisp-wind drifting in from the window slightly opened. It was an exciting time for her, at the peak of her career she beamed brightly with confident allure, and this was difficult to miss. With her cup a shade of beige darker than the blonde of her shoulder-length hair, and she twirled it playfully in her free hand.
‘You’re very welcome, Miss Lux, and congratulations on your recent League victory. I watched the events via crystal-vision, and was most impressed by your exceptional performance,’ Morgana said while bending over to replenish the Explosive Berry Cupcake Tray. A rose-red tinge lit up across the high parts of her freckled cheeks. With a flutter of her voice she supressed a laugh under her breath, and her eyes wrinkled into upsideown crescent moons before the momentary phase of shyness passed.
‘Your words fill me with happiness!’ she exclaimed. She cleaned away a stray smudge of heated berry puree from the corner of her mouth with a freshly pressed white napkin, and placed it back upon her lap. Morgana nodded her head and smiled brightly before returning back to the large oven, where the new batch of muffins was simmering carefully.
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The sunrise was red, darkened bands of orange rippling through the Valoran stratosphere, and Talon was there, taking in the view from the upper balcony of the Sinful Succulence. The sun was shining over the horizon lazily, casting full-bodied shadows down upon the hazy streets. The weary assassin regarded the sight with a comfortable nostalgia, looking ahead with eyes filled with the reflections of stern, black Noxian buildings twisting ominously skyward. Aside from the occasional straggler heading home from a long day of work, the streets were barren, empty, completely devoid of sentient activity. The pubs were expected to be packed on this day, as the League day events were to be celebrated to the full extent, but Talon decided to withdraw for the evening and not allow himself to get caught up in the drunken chaos that was likely to ensure. For now, he preferred to sit comfortably on the squeaky wicker chair, sipping a large gray cup of steeped tea that Morgana had just brewed. ‘TEA TIME,’ she yelled aloud, and Katarina came running downstairs, her red bushel of hair frolicking sillily abound, in a matter of care not and she stepped footfalls forward ahead to meet the Fallen Angel, who was standing most precariously on a floorboard grid beneath her heeled feet, black heels laced calf-length sheen beneath candlelight. And the scent of Chai Spiced tea tinged the air, comfortable aromatics drifting listlessly. Luxanna was impressed by the quality of the goods, and she regarded Morgana with a casual wink, the faint curl of her lips into a friendly smile, and the firelight echoed in her beautiful blue eyes like tiny oceans reflecting sullen beams of flickering sunlight.
‘It’s nice to see you here, Luxanna, and I am pleased that you find my goods to be of an above average quality,’ Morgana said as she prepared another baking sheet for the freshly lit oven, where Srillex stood and held carefully a long wooden match. The cautious servant shook the burning tinder free of flame to create tendrils of deadsmoke, whereupon he eyed the uprising of the furnace with an undying curiosity. Since birth, Srillex was drawn to the majestic chaos of an open fire. There was something about the outbursts of raw energy, a process that could be harnessed through magic, occurring within a natural system. He imagined the chemical bonds breaking beneath the assault of energized ions, something that few humans were even aware of, but he needn’t burden them with his randomness. The humans cared not for that which they could not manipulate. The deviousness of his facial expression belied his systematic brashness, but the situation was still considered socially acceptable. Little did Talon know, there wasn’t a single thought in Morgana’s mind that even related to the infernalness of the thought. And so what if it happened? There were other options unbounded, and an entire world out there to touch. Nobody had to warn the situation and monopolised the confusion of the situation. Nidalee wasn’t there yet, but she was sure to be there soon. The Jungle Huntress proved her companionship worthy with Lux on that night in Summoner’s Rift, and it had made the difference between winning and defeat. Little did she know, Luxanna expressed a casual disdain in her absence, and she wanted to converse with the Jungle Huntress again, to share stories about their adventures in the League, during a time at which things had been exultant – free of design or doubt – worry and concern ironed away with the fleck of an iron-barred hot-knife, and little could be done to prevent his agitation, aggression, and she wanted to give everything to him, a curious thought, but one that he wouldn’t simply ignore. It was a situation worth investing a little faith in, keeping it held cautiously in his mind, bringing forth a relaxing scenario that promised perpetual bliss and a pretty cool life, or at least the possibility of obtaining such, and that was the humility of it all, the fact that this transcription was necessary to allow for the mental fixtures to accrue themselves inasmuch everything shone under the guise of clarity, and there was no point in attempting to deny that fact.
‘Thank you ever so much, Fallen Angel, you’re reputation for producing the most exceptional baked goods in Valoran is well deserved,’ Luxanna said, crossing her legs as she spoke. Her silk blue skirt was slightly ruffled from the feather-strength wisp-wind drifting in from the window slightly opened. It was an exciting time for her, at the peak of her career she beamed brightly with confident allure, and this was difficult to miss. With her cup a shade of beige darker than the blonde of her shoulder-length hair, and she twirled it playfully in her free hand.
‘You’re very welcome, Miss Lux, and congratulations on your recent League victory. I watched the events via crystal-vision, and was most impressed by your exceptional performance,’ Morgana said while bending over to replenish the Explosive Berry Cupcake Tray. A rose-red tinge lit up across the high parts of her freckled cheeks. With a flutter of her voice she supressed a laugh under her breath, and her eyes wrinkled into upsideown crescent moons before the momentary phase of shyness passed.
‘Your words fill me with happiness!’ she exclaimed. She cleaned away a stray smudge of heated berry puree from the corner of her mouth with a freshly pressed white napkin, and placed it back upon her lap. Morgana nodded her head and smiled brightly before returning back to the large oven, where the new batch of muffins was simmering carefully.
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1 week later
The last thing on Talon’s mind was how to make her feel at ease. She was not as standoffish as the other champions, but likewise, she preferred to not divulge matters of a personal nature, or any other affairs deemed capable of interfering with daily life. The institute was caught up in a strong wind that day, a wind that would assuredly gain Janna’s envy. League summons were several hours from occurring, and already the champions were becoming mentally prepared, honing their skills and weapons in the courtyard and within the multi-chambered institute. The Yordle champions were given special quarters within the institute to better suit their size deficiency, though more often than not they were quite content simply roaming around the grounds, chatting up summoners and other champions. The social dynamics between League Champions and summoners were exceedingly difficult to interpret for the average person, and there were times when one appeared to be at the other’s throat. Unsuccessful summoners more quickly accrued the ire of Champions than successful ones, but there were also Champions who took the time to assist younger summoners, and even preferred them. Leona herself is noted to prefer novice summoners, and she’s been well regarded as an expert at helping Summoners become familiar with their craft. It was not a feat that everyone was capable of. It took one with a special mind attuned to the intricacies of Summoner magic, and although most Champions were no experts on the matter, Leona was an exception, providing illumination to those relegated to the imperceptibility and awkwardness experienced in those first shaky years as a Summoner. The learning curve to accrue Summoner mastery was insurmountable, and only the best of the best managed to survive the ordeal of training and apprenticeship. Most new summoners were deemed ill-equipped to handle the arcane rituals and synergistic magic that were to be dealt with on a daily basis.
Leona, the Radiant Dawn, representing the splendour of Runeterran sunlight, walked demurely down the ivory steps. Talon was waiting for her, and he appeared willing to engage in conversation. Obsidian flame towers could be seen in the distance, a dull blue flame circulating around their top-mounted braziers. It was a cool night, and clouds danced on ground level like mists from mountain tops. The blue flame filled the wisp-like fog with enough illumination to observe beyond it the shapeless forms from the surrounding forest, a curious translucence windowed by darkness. Where Leona walked, there was brought with her a lighted aura originating from the sun-touched brilliance of Mount Targon’s light.
‘You’re looking well,’ said Talon, greeting her warmly with his shaded eyes.
‘The dawn thanks you for your compliment, assassin,’ she replied, a calm smile beginning to stretch into the corners of her rosy cheeks. Her presence put him at ease in a way that was beyond explanation. It was as if her lighted countenance split the depths of his pain-wracked subconscious, somehow filling it with sublime radiance, bringing from behind his mind and beneath his soul a wellspring of comfort. He thought back to the terrible time he had spent in The Box, a place of solitary confinement granted in exchange for his prolific delinquency as a youth. But none of that mattered now. He had a life, an opportunity given to him by the powers of the Noxian High Command, General Couteau in specific. The man had recognized his penchant for subterfuge and armed combat, two requisite skills for service in the Crimson Elite. General Du Couteau’s recognition of Talon’s abilities was even enough to earn Katarina’s patronage, and she was not one easily impressed.
‘Good to see you, are you ready for today’s match?’ she asked cheerfully.
‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ he said, looking casually around the grounds. The Radiant one was mindful of his assuredness, and this made her smile, but she knew that there was something he was hiding from her.
‘The rogue Summoner…’ she paused, ‘the Necromancer, did you find him, did the Crimson elite find him?’ there was a brilliant flash of light from the pillars of flame nearby, the blue scorching the sky, smoke clouds venting outward in semi-circular patterns, a curious geometry that caught his attention for a moment before returning to meet her concerned expression.
‘We have no leads,’ he admitted, looking harshly down at his open palms. ‘The event in the Northwatch tower was just a taste, just a segment of what he is capable of, and we didn’t even catch him. He got away, and now we’re at a complete loss as to how to relocate the bastard.’ Talon clenched his fist and kicked the ground, sending a small clump of dirt flying outward. Leona shared his dejection as she glanced downward at the sodden earth, her smile slightly faded, but still she tried to comfort him.
‘You’re going to find him, I believe in you,’ she said with fire in her eyes. ‘It’s just a matter of time, and then we can stop worrying. All this worrying going on around here, it’s not healthy.’ Just then a soft wind picked up, sending the blue flame-halos sputtering about at random, flapping like loose flags caught in an updraft. The reflections of the blue firelight danced on Leona’s armour like living chrome, a nightlight trick melding shadows with the sheen of polished sunlight steel; her trademark plates linked with gold chain. It was a set of armour forged specifically for the Children of the Sun, the light bringers capable of providing illumination to even the darkest places, despite the circumstances. Countless League matches had forged within Leona an iron resolve to defeat all adversity, overcome any obstacle both mental and physical, to gaze upon that clandestine sunset of victory almost tangible to those responsible for upholding the battle-standard of victory, blazing gloriously one more across the Fields of Justice.
The last thing on Talon’s mind was how to make her feel at ease. She was not as standoffish as the other champions, but likewise, she preferred to not divulge matters of a personal nature, or any other affairs deemed capable of interfering with daily life. The institute was caught up in a strong wind that day, a wind that would assuredly gain Janna’s envy. League summons were several hours from occurring, and already the champions were becoming mentally prepared, honing their skills and weapons in the courtyard and within the multi-chambered institute. The Yordle champions were given special quarters within the institute to better suit their size deficiency, though more often than not they were quite content simply roaming around the grounds, chatting up summoners and other champions. The social dynamics between League Champions and summoners were exceedingly difficult to interpret for the average person, and there were times when one appeared to be at the other’s throat. Unsuccessful summoners more quickly accrued the ire of Champions than successful ones, but there were also Champions who took the time to assist younger summoners, and even preferred them. Leona herself is noted to prefer novice summoners, and she’s been well regarded as an expert at helping Summoners become familiar with their craft. It was not a feat that everyone was capable of. It took one with a special mind attuned to the intricacies of Summoner magic, and although most Champions were no experts on the matter, Leona was an exception, providing illumination to those relegated to the imperceptibility and awkwardness experienced in those first shaky years as a Summoner. The learning curve to accrue Summoner mastery was insurmountable, and only the best of the best managed to survive the ordeal of training and apprenticeship. Most new summoners were deemed ill-equipped to handle the arcane rituals and synergistic magic that were to be dealt with on a daily basis.
Leona, the Radiant Dawn, representing the splendour of Runeterran sunlight, walked demurely down the ivory steps. Talon was waiting for her, and he appeared willing to engage in conversation. Obsidian flame towers could be seen in the distance, a dull blue flame circulating around their top-mounted braziers. It was a cool night, and clouds danced on ground level like mists from mountain tops. The blue flame filled the wisp-like fog with enough illumination to observe beyond it the shapeless forms from the surrounding forest, a curious translucence windowed by darkness. Where Leona walked, there was brought with her a lighted aura originating from the sun-touched brilliance of Mount Targon’s light.
‘You’re looking well,’ said Talon, greeting her warmly with his shaded eyes.
‘The dawn thanks you for your compliment, assassin,’ she replied, a calm smile beginning to stretch into the corners of her rosy cheeks. Her presence put him at ease in a way that was beyond explanation. It was as if her lighted countenance split the depths of his pain-wracked subconscious, somehow filling it with sublime radiance, bringing from behind his mind and beneath his soul a wellspring of comfort. He thought back to the terrible time he had spent in The Box, a place of solitary confinement granted in exchange for his prolific delinquency as a youth. But none of that mattered now. He had a life, an opportunity given to him by the powers of the Noxian High Command, General Couteau in specific. The man had recognized his penchant for subterfuge and armed combat, two requisite skills for service in the Crimson Elite. General Du Couteau’s recognition of Talon’s abilities was even enough to earn Katarina’s patronage, and she was not one easily impressed.
‘Good to see you, are you ready for today’s match?’ she asked cheerfully.
‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ he said, looking casually around the grounds. The Radiant one was mindful of his assuredness, and this made her smile, but she knew that there was something he was hiding from her.
‘The rogue Summoner…’ she paused, ‘the Necromancer, did you find him, did the Crimson elite find him?’ there was a brilliant flash of light from the pillars of flame nearby, the blue scorching the sky, smoke clouds venting outward in semi-circular patterns, a curious geometry that caught his attention for a moment before returning to meet her concerned expression.
‘We have no leads,’ he admitted, looking harshly down at his open palms. ‘The event in the Northwatch tower was just a taste, just a segment of what he is capable of, and we didn’t even catch him. He got away, and now we’re at a complete loss as to how to relocate the bastard.’ Talon clenched his fist and kicked the ground, sending a small clump of dirt flying outward. Leona shared his dejection as she glanced downward at the sodden earth, her smile slightly faded, but still she tried to comfort him.
‘You’re going to find him, I believe in you,’ she said with fire in her eyes. ‘It’s just a matter of time, and then we can stop worrying. All this worrying going on around here, it’s not healthy.’ Just then a soft wind picked up, sending the blue flame-halos sputtering about at random, flapping like loose flags caught in an updraft. The reflections of the blue firelight danced on Leona’s armour like living chrome, a nightlight trick melding shadows with the sheen of polished sunlight steel; her trademark plates linked with gold chain. It was a set of armour forged specifically for the Children of the Sun, the light bringers capable of providing illumination to even the darkest places, despite the circumstances. Countless League matches had forged within Leona an iron resolve to defeat all adversity, overcome any obstacle both mental and physical, to gaze upon that clandestine sunset of victory almost tangible to those responsible for upholding the battle-standard of victory, blazing gloriously one more across the Fields of Justice.
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