This is my first story on this site. Please send feedback so I can improve for my dream of becoming a writer!
Side Note: The romance side of the story won't be added till later in the story. What kind of writer would I be if I just threw two people together and called it love? (*cough* *cough* majority of writers on this site)
Sarcasm and hate comments aside, enjoy reading!
In this world, legends birth often and scarcely return to dust. A world, filled with great beauties and bone-chilling atrocities that manifest and form the landscape, its influence guiding history itself. From the splendor of Demacia and Bandle City to the rugged, verging lawless terrain of Noxus and Bilgewater, and then to the cauldrons of nightmares that corrupted the Void and the Shadow Isles, the world contained many breeding grounds for legends. Born from patriotism, tragedy, carnage, or pure sport, these awesome individuals were once almost completely silenced. But they remerged with a vengeance, and with this resurgence came a new age. An age of contest, trial, and progress. From this time period, a foundation gathered these heroes, villains, and monsters. That foundation soon became to be known as the League of Legends. But everything eventually withers, especially when the seeds of destruction were weeded into the shining, hopeful field of the League of Legends.
The crest of the Institute of War, a prominent figure in global society, now lay soot-sodden and broken in pieces on the ashen earth. No longer was the sky a vibrant blue, charcoal smoked air carrying the screams and wails of the afflicted. Flames licked the buildings and streets, devouring lost souls in its wake, filled with gluttony as it swallowed the city states. The famous Barracks that housed rookie and veteran Champions now stood obliterated and poisoned with dark magic. The home of the League of Legends cried out from mortal wounds.
The powerful icons that proudly gleamed of Demacia's prosperity such as the statue of King Jarvan I and the gemstone solar calendar Merlin's Memorial now lay decimated and brittle. The craggy, residential mountains that backboned Demacia slowly crumbled, bleeding man-made and natural rubble alike. Noxus was not without turmoil either. Noxian streets piled with corpses, bathing in black dirt and the ominous dark fog. The Immortal Bastion, the fortress palace of the Grand General Swain atop a spiraling, incut bluff, dropped castle limbs to the earth below. The already black-varnished rock turned a darker shade from the ash. Miles upon miles of land had been warred upon, wounds the land had not seen since the Rune Wars.
For the first time since her father died, Poppy quaked with fear. Her armor felt hot and uncomfortable, caused by the intense flames that littered the city. Poppy's pigtails were undone, long creamy hair that was covered in cement chips and soot falling to the middle of her back. Whomper felt heavy in her hands, surprising her if not for the brutal chaos injuring the Institute of War. She recognized some summoners in the debris, no longer among the realm of the living. Chills shivered up her spine as she trekked through the remains of the Institute. It was hard to imagine only a few hours ago had she won a glorious match on the Rift where she received an S grade token.
Poppy's wandering feet found her at the Grand Library, one of the Institute's beautiful symbols that currently was disfigured and mutilated. The golden dome that sealed the four-story building was splintered, fragments sizing anywhere from a ball to a war-rhino. The archways engraved into the library's walls were broken in certain areas, exposing its contents to the elements. Approaching the structure, Poppy found the several ton iron plated doors knocked off their hinges and cracked, laying atop one another. She remembered when her eyes first laid on the library's splendor, heading at that time to research who wielded her hammer. It saddened her to see something so magnificent in pain.
Upon entry, Poppy noticed a malignant aura. Its stench was like that of Void dwellers, but different. Unlike those from the Void like Kog'Maw, who seeked nothing but to devour all life, this one craved destruction and power. The evil aura stained the library, Poppy almost intoxicated by its repugnance. Covering her mouth with a gloveless hand, Poppy moved to the lobby of the library. The vast room was dark, the silhouettes of rowed book shelves the only guide for Poppy through the black. From what she could see, blood was smeared widely across the shelves, the Iron Ambassador spotting corpses carven like turkeys. Even through her pinched nose Poppy could smell death. She knew something deadly lurked in the shadows.
A desk came into view. Coming closer, the yordle recognized the first floor's curator, Randle Grend. The aging coot lay slumped in his chair behind the main desk, many of his limbs hacked to pieces. She didn't have time to feel sad, as she passed the magic elevators and staircases to the central core of the library: The Index Sanction. Books cluttered on the ground in huge piles, entire shelves knocked over like dominoes. It unnerved Poppy that the only sound in the silence was her dull footsteps. Clutching Whomper tighter, she guarded herself and expected to be attacked.
Out of the corner of her eye, the yordle spotted a faint purple light. She moved toward it, every passing footstep the sound of conflicting magic increasing. At the corner of a support beam, Poppy peered around it, shocked at the sight before her eyes. Nasus panted, blood dripping from his temple, raising his staff back into a battle stance. The champion appeared to be badly hurt, favoring large cuts and bruises. He faced an enemy that was concealed to Poppy's point of view. Below his feet, Nasus was surrounded in spirit fire, giving off a purple glow. The Ascended scholar scowled. "I figured you were behind this attack," Nasus growled, stretching his lips back to reveal menacing teeth. His opponent laughed.
"So, it's true you're smarter than most. I expected you'd smell nicer though," the voice mocked. Poppy remembered that voice, but couldn't find its face. Nasus arced his arm, sending violet fireballs from his staff. The foe laxly deflected it with a swipe. "You don't give up, do you?" the voice sighed. "It's a shame I have to wipe such a wise mage as yourself from Runeterra. Well, at least people will tremble at the knowledge that I'm powerful enough to kill an Ascended."
The room shook. Suddenly excited fire enlightened the room. Poppy glanced at the enemy, who now came into full view. It was a tall bald man, his burgundy skin tattooed with various mystical curves and circles intertwining on the surface. His cloth shirt was parted down to the middle, slightly covering a muscular chest. His attire was that of a wizard, except the sleeves were tattered. On one arm, bright gemstones with what Poppy assumed were magic letters engraved on its surfaces were supplanted in the man's skin. His eyes beamed scarlet, stocked with malice and bloodthirst. The man reminded the yordle of the rogue mage Ryze she had fought with.
Nasus swung his staff at the mage. In response, the man blasted a malicious magic bolt into Nasus' ribs. The jackal howled in pain, swinging again and missing. He was blasted off his feet, colliding into a book shelf. "What is it you want, Orus?" Nasus seethed, wincing at his bleeding ribs. Wasn't that the new champion that entered the League, Poppy thought. The mage known as Orus snorted smugly.
"Oh, you dumb Shuriman mutt, you'll be dead before you see it unfold."
Poppy had had enough. She dashed forward, her hammer eager for smashing. The mage barely paid her notice, swiping his hand. Poppy flung back into the book shelf with Nasus. "Iron Ambassador? What are you doing here?" asked a surprised Nasus.
"I came here trying to find survivors," she lied. Pure shock is what led her confused feet to the Grand Library. "Looked like you needed help. That didn't work out too well." Poppy barely felt the impact, thanks to her thick armor. She got to her feet, getting Nasus to shakily stand through raw strength.
"Are you all right?" Poppy asked concerned. Nasus shook his head.
"You need to leave right now, Poppy," the jackal warned, spitting out blood. "You have no idea what kind of mess you're getting into."
Orus smirked. "You should be more concerned about your own health, mutt." Fire erupted from his palm. Poppy got herself and Nasus out of the way just in time, but almost burned as the raging heat passed her. Poppy charged again, swinging her hammer. A gem on Orus' arm flashed, a sudden barrier large enough to block the hammer's face. The yordle swung twice more, Orus using the same effect. The mage scoffed, cupping his hand, and turning it toward the yordle. Poppy was lifted off her feet, eyes widened, gasping in pain as the invisible hand gave her a feeling of numerous inflicting elements. "How's it feel to be burning, freezing, and cut simultaneously?" Orus grinned.
Her grip on Whomper loosened, the hammer dropping with a spectacular smash on the ground. Poppy reached for the nonexistent hands choking her with magic, tears dripping out of her eyes. If she was to die, Poppy wanted to die an honorable death on the battlefield for Demacia. Not in some dark library dying a shameful death where she didn't even land a hit on her opponent. The pain she felt from the elemental magic was excruciating, and Poppy faded in and out of consciousness. She needed a miracle.
Suddenly, she plummeted to the floor, lungs grasping for air. Her head pivoted, finding a titanic-sized Nasus attacking Orus. The jackal withered the mage, landing a few good strikes. Blocking the next flurry of attacks, Orus wiped the blood from his mouth, growling fiercely. His hands gestured in many weird movements before a black magic blast coursed with lightning fired at the Curator. From somewhere, Nasus had found a Banshee's Veil, using it to shield himself and Poppy. But the attack was unrelenting, pressuring the veil. The magical shield started to crack.
"Poppy," Nasus smiled warmly, turning his head toward the yordle. "This barrier won't hold forever. Get out of here and save yourself." Poppy shook her head, wiping away tears.
"What? Don't say that, Nasus," she responded, sniffling. "I can't leave you. We can fight him together. I've lost too many people to see any more die."
Nasus chuckled to himself. "Even if we fought together, we would lose." The shield cracked further. "Don't worry Poppy," he soothed. "There's no shame in letting a friend sacrifice themselves for you. Besides, I've lived long enough."
Poppy's eyes started to flood, whimpers escaping from her mouth. "Thank you, Nasus," she cried. Nasus nodded. Grabbing her hammer, Poppy fled. Meanwhile, the veil was on the verge of breaking. As the blast came closer and closer to Nasus, his mind wandered back to the days of his youth. How he and his brother, Renekton, played carelessly in the slums. Still able to feel the love of a mother. Nasus felt great affection for Renekton, mixed with twisting and panging sorrow. A tear shed from the Ascended's eye. His only regret was that he couldn't see his happy-go-lucky, impulsive brother one last time. The shield shattered.
Poppy escaped through the Grand Library's entrance before the building exploded. Running and running, her heels felt worn and fatigued. Though her armor was thick and pushed over any basic attack, Poppy's insides contorted. For years, she wandered the Runeterra, traveling to the harsh tundras of the Freljord and the screeching, murderous Kumungu Jungle in search of the rightful wielder of her hammer. But there was another reason she traveled. The souls of the dead she felt responsible for left her isolated, refusing to get close to people. It was until she was found by Jarvan III on a Demacian highway that her inner demons of solitude were exorcised, growing fond of her king. Eventually, Poppy was dubbed official Demacian ambassador to Bandle City. Those types of demons don't die easy though, as Poppy well knew at this very moment.
Poppy's feet carried her to the winds, leaving behind the fallen city states and wake of the decimated League of Legends.
