Noxus
A man leaned casually against an ornate pillar, in the ruby district of Noxus. Rich Noxion citizens strode past with their noses in the air, not liking the "commoner" countenance surrounding the man.
Despite this, he drew attention. His clothes were loud and colorful, and his long hair was drawn back into a ponytail, with the rest swept up dramatically over his brow. He was tall, over six feet, and extremely muscular. His arms were adorned with geometric tattoos, outlining his muscles against his skin and forming deceptive lines and visually pleasing symmetry across his body. Closer inspection would reveal that they went across his chest, back, and neck. Perhaps what drew more attention than his appearance though, were the two massive bladed weapons strapped across his back in an "x" shape.
He was standing nonchalantly, though he was obviously out of place. A permanent grin was fixed across his handsome features, twisting his olive skin into an attractive, if somewhat psychotic expression. His pale eyes were fixed on the door of a large, ornate dwelling across the street from where he was standing.
The house was not unusual for the Ruby District. It was massive and opulent, with high windows and thick doors, patterned tiles adorned the exterior showing spirals swooping across the large abode. The gates were twisted with rose vines, however the few roses growing on the thorny plants were as black as night, and barely swayed in the wind.
Giving a quiet chuckle, and tightening the smile he wore the man shoved himself off of the pillar. He strode with long, easy steps across to the gate of the colossal house he had been fixated with. The large gates were fixed with a heavy lock and a thick chain. He looked at it for a moment, then casually rolled his left arm. One of the weapons lashed to his back freed from its holster, and he easily caught the handle just as the end of the blade was about to hit the ground.
With another shake of his arm, a second blade separated from behind the first. They had aligned perfectly, but separated to spin freely from each other around the central handle that had grooves for that exact purpose. Without so much as a glance around he began spinning both blades like helicopter rotors. Then, with a clean motion of his limb the blades went through the chain as though it were butter, and kept spinning.
With the lethal weapon in hand he strode up the yard, taking in the beautiful landscaping. The axe stopped spinning just as he reached the door, and he leaned it against his shoulder while his other hand reached up and politely knocked on the door.
The door did not open. No sound came from inside the house whatsoever. Draven's grin faded slightly, and his eyebrows crossed. He rolled his eyebrows and raised a hand above his head, and lazily dropped it pointing at the door.
Almost instantaneously a large number of heavily armed and armored men were storming up the path to the mansion. Leading them was a massive man, wearing a blood red cape. He had a white streak of hair, stark against the black of the rest of his mane. He carried a colossal crushing axe, almost as long as an average man. A skull was detailed onto the flat of the blade. He was even taller than Draven, towering over his underlings in an imposing posture. His face had a number of scars on it, but he otherwise looked remarkably similar to the other man. It could be concluded that they were brothers.
"These theatrics of yours don't amuse me, Draven." The larger man said gruffly to his brother.
"Hah! Darius, the reason we're doing this in broad daylight is about theatrics. And who better to do it than the illustrious DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVEN?!" Draven cried, as the men who had followed Darius shattered the door with a small magical scroll. The timing was impeccable.
Darius rolled his eyes, and gripped his massive weapon in one hand, apparently unbothered by the weight.
"Let's move!" He shouted to his followers, and strode through the door way.
The group was almost immediately greeted by an armed guard, who took a swing at Darius's head with a short sword. Darius moved quickly for a man his size, and raised his axe to block the swing. With his other hand, he caught the man by the face and lifted him. With a casual toss, the unfortunate guard was thrown behind Darius like a sack of potatoes. The henchmen made short work of him.
They continued through the house unchallenged. Draven looked around at the ornate interior of the house, mildly impressed.
Draven strolled up to Darius, his casual stride a strange contrast against Darius's heavy soldiers march.
"You think we could let this house stand?" He asked, nonchalantly. "This grandeur is worthy of my presence."
"This is a symbol of weakness. All of this. It will be destroyed." He grunted.
As he said this, two more guardsmen sprinted around the end of the hallway, carrying spears. Darius readied his axe, but Draven's were already unsheathed. With a dramatic spin of his body, Draven sent his right axe whirling towards the right guard, soon followed by the left axe.
The top half of the axe collided with the upper part of the man's chest and part of his neck. The bottom half, still spinning, carried through the rest of his abdomen, and the momentum carried the axe back into the air towards Draven. The left axe did the same thing.
As the axes were in the air, Draven laughed loudly at the crumbling bodies of the former guardsmen. He reached out both hands to either side of his body, and the massive thrown weapons returned to him, coming down exactly where he predicted.
Darius's men were impressed, and gave Draven a polite round of applause. Darius gritted his teeth and continued forward past the mangled corpses.
Any further resistance the intruders met along the way were dealt with in a similar manner. Either Draven's axes sliced them open from a distance or Darius would brutally take apart men toe to toe and piece by piece.
They systematically scourged the house, slicing aside house keepers and guards alike. Darius looked around, dissatisfied.
"Seems the cowards cleared out. Teams of two, split and sweep the house." He ordered. His soldiers paired up, and moved off into the house.
Darius and Draven were left alone in the uppermost room of the house, with an expansive view of the Noxion skyline. The brothers gazed out into the grimy city.
"Weakness… festering in such a great city. It's disgusting." Darius snarled through clenched teeth. Draven glanced away from his reflection in the window, and at his brother.
"Is that what you see? I see a mass of sheep. Ready to either follow a Shepard," He gestured to himself "Or be slaughtered. It's not weakness, it's a lack of motivation." He shrugged nonchalantly as his brother considered his words. He sometimes forgot that Draven was not quite as stupid as he acted.
"You bring up an interesting point, Draven. But realistically-" his sentence was cut off by a loud explosion from downstairs. Without another word, both brothers unsheathed their weapons and sped towards the commotion.
The scene they arrived on was not pretty. Remnants of blood, bone, and metal were strewn across the decadent hallway, centered around a large crater in the intricate tile floor. Standing at the opposite end of the hallway was a very fat, very frightened man holding both hands in a common magical stance.
Darius concluded that two of his men had been ambushed by the aristocrat, as the spatter was focused away from him. He was angered by the man's cowardice, and at his own men for having been killed so easily.
Draven didn't miss a beat, unsheathing, spinning, and throwing his left axe in a single, fluid motion. The man shielded himself just in time, but the flimsy barrier was not enough to stop the cold steel of the axe as it pierced and shredded his right shoulder.
Darius had taken a few long strides, and as the man was clutching his irreparably damaged shoulder he swung his axe in a wide circle, slicing open the magicians bowls. Draven's next axe was not deflected as it narrowly missed Darius and split the man's head cleanly in two.
They both gave a small chuckle. They shared a contempt for magic users, seeing the bending of mana into energy as weakness. Draven glanced around, and saw a shadow flee around a corner. Giving a loud whistle to Darius he sprinted after the shadow. He had always been slightly faster than his brother, and able to force himself to sprint a little faster for this exact purpose.
He rounded the corner, running at impressive speeds. The figure he was pursing was revealed to be female, and glanced over her shoulder. As she did so, she tripped over the long dress she was wearing and came crashing to the ground.
Draven casually strode over to her, spinning his axe menacingly. The girl could not have been more than twelve, eyes wide and fearful. Draven grimaced. He hated dealing with children. He sheathed his axe and withdrew a small coin, a Noxion brass. With his free hand he flipped it high into the air.
"Call it." He said to the girl. She began to stammer a reply, but the coin had already landed in his outstretched hand. "You're fortunate! The illustrious DRAAAAVEN will spare you, this time. Run, before my brother finds you. RUN!" He shouted the last part, and the child took off.
He flipped the coin again, and a rare frown found his face as he looked at the result. He threw his axe.
Ionia
High above the mountaintops of the Ionian countryside, a palace floated, almost serenely. A person visiting Ionia would assume it was some kind of temple devoted to balance and order, a standing ovation to the concept of equilibrium. Ionian natives know that the reality is quite the opposite.
Anyone stupid enough to step inside would be instantly vaporized. The lucky few who were not vaporized upon entry would glimpse a woman, a witch of incalculable power, then they would be vaporized.
She floats above the ground by about a foot, though she can fly effectively. Her garment is black, as is the ornate headdress that she wears. Long, silver hair flows out from under it. Her face is beautiful, though untouchable, like looking at a portrait. The woman's eyes glow deep purple.
Syndra was bored. She had depleted the vast library of her manor, and toying with the villagers below left her somehow unsatisfied. Like killing ants. The Ionians had not tried to lynch her recently, and it was becoming depressing. She was hated, wasn't she? Why didn't they come and hate her?
Frustrated, she soared towards the western window. She gazed towards the (blank) sea, towards Piltover, Zaun, and the other city-states. She was finished with Ionia. The culture ran too deep, too true for her to steer the people away from. The elders would rot in their power until they died, then new (less elder) elders would take their place. The cycle was depressing.
She had read of a nation to the west. A nation of true strength, Noxus. She dreamed of her reception, a nation of strength receiving the strongest of them all. How they would all adore her…
That made her mind up. She would go to Noxus. She mentally sealed every opening of her fortress, and soared into the Ionian skyline.