Warwick knew that he lead a very dull life. Aside from a broken, un-interactive kit, his team had little respect or kindness towards him. As the match progressed, more and more came the clamoring from his team to assist them in their lanes, and though Warwick told them he simply did not have the equipment or fighting experience to be of help, they would not listen, shouting accusations of being in Bronze V.
Deciding to ignore his teammates, he finished clawing away at the massive Red Brambleback, killing it with ease. Almost immediately after the creature died, a surge of strength rushed through Warwick; it felt as though his veins were on fire, but not in a painful way. Indeed, killing the Cinderling that was left over was quicker than usual, as every scratch he would leave left a deep, burning cut. Warwick knew what this meant, and took action to make use of it.
He autistically ran past the river and made for the Blue Sentinel camp. Rushing towards the bush that sat at by the trees, he waited for his prey. Warwick, in his empowered state, felt as though he could destroy any vicious creature that came his way. He didn't know exactly who his challenger was, as they hadn't appeared in any of the lanes yet either. Was it the fearsome void-reaver, Kha'Zix? Perhaps it was the mighty and powerful prince of Demacia, Jarvan. No matter, for whatever being he was about to encounter, he could destroy with barely any effort (right-clicking). His thoughts were shot down completely as he saw who approached the Blue Sentinel.
It was Soraka, quietly humming a tune as she elegantly strolled towards the camp. Warwick, although initially confused, became almost instantly stricken with heinous joy. This was his chance to finally get what he had always wanted: retribution. The curse of lycanthropy unwillingly forced upon him by that blue, goat-horned starchild had tormented Warwick ever since his original lore was ruined.
Springing into action, Warwick ran out of the bush with a fierce growl, and dug one of his claws directly into Soraka's arm. He tackled her on to the ground, his other hand gripping her neck as a hateful chuckle followed. Soraka, gasping for air, managed to chastise the wolf, shouting "I thought I...dealt with you!" She reached for her staff with her free arm as she spoke, lying beside her on the damp forest ground, but Warwick let go of her neck and gripped her arm instead. "What are you going to do, then?" Soraka coughed out. "Kill me?" Although the thought was Warwick's original intent, he decided it was not enough. No, simply killing Soraka would not bring about the retribution he desired. He shook his head, snarling. "Let's make this fun..."
Warwick slashed near Soraka's shoulders and hips, slicing apart her clothing as he left small, jagged wounds their place. He was obviously refraining from total bloodshed, as much as his feral instincts would let. Unfazed, Soraka struggled under Warwick's control, speaking with an defiant tone "And how do you expect to kill me like that?" She opened her mouth second time, but was cut off as Warwick lifted his nearly naked victim off from the ground, her back facing him as a chokehold was once again placed on her neck. Her arms, both being held to her sides by just one of Warwick's, tugged and writhed in vain.
She predicted little of what was about to come, as Warwick's massive length pressed up on her thighs. A barely audible shriek escaped Soraka's throat as her struggling intensified twofold, accentuated by her shivering in fear of what would happen next. Warwick lowered his mouth next to the starchild's ear as he spoke in a deep growl. "I can smell your fear..."
Just as be began to slowly utter an odious laugh, he plunged the entirety of his Raw Potato into Soraka's Feminine Fryer. Her eyes shot open as Warwick entered her meat wallet uninvited, her attempts at screaming for help fruitless as her neck was tightly gripped. Warwick held his Bitch Blaster in her without movement for several seconds, speaking again in an insulting tone. "Remember this feeling, weakling..." Slowly, he slid his Poon Pole out, and then plunged back in with the same voracity, repeating this pattern until Soraka's strained wailing grew silent. Upon the end of her futile shouting, Warwick let go of her neck and instead grabbed the horn that sat on her forehead.
"How does it feel, whelp?" Warwick said, lightly tugging on Soraka's horn as he kept on his repetitive assault. He grinned as he continued. "Maybe you shouldn't have chosen to jungle." Indeed, Warwick was right. It mattered not that SivHD played it once, as it is still a truly retarded strategy, and Soraka regretted knowing she was such a trash player. Soraka desperately attempted to explain why the fuck she decided to pick jungle at all, but her disoriented mind only produced slurred rambling. "M...my t-teammmates w-wahnted me t-t-..."
Her words mutated into unintelligible moaning as Warwick placed two of his fingers into her mouth, producing a slow growl as he pressed his tongue against the side of her delicate face, for reasons purely culinary. Ensuring the entire length of his knotted Flesh Flute was buried into Soraka, Warwick reached his climax, unleashing a several fluid ounces of splooge into Soraka's tiny belly. Soraka's gasping moans increased as the warm, sticky cum splashed into her womb. Once he finally finished filling his toy with jizzum, he dropped Soraka to the ground, and turned her ragdoll body over. He rubbed his warm Wee-Wee on her contorted face, draping her agape mouth and exhausted eyes with his cum, and grinned.
The humiliation brought him more pleasure than the rape did, and as he stood back to observe the broken mess he created, he decided that killing Soraka would be a waste. Warwick picked up his victim and walked back to the nexus. They were to have much more "fun" after the game. Except the game was pretty much over because Warwick didn't gank once the whole game. What a retarded cunt.