Tales from Runeterra
Part 1: Enter Shaco
By Chase Florom
The words in which I scribe with ink and feather are not words of my own, but of the people of Runeterra. I write to maintain the history and adventures of this blessed realm, yet cannot provide any proof of accuracy of the stories told. I'll admit, I may've embellished a few details for the sake of storytelling. Having said this, read my words not as a history book, but as one of the greatest adventures ever told. - Arthur Butterbill
Bart Spiritmight plopped his fat backend into one of the royal thrones. He raised a slab of mutton to his mouth, and sunk his teeth into it. Juices ran from the meat down his fluffy beard, and onto his long purple robe. He sighed as he waited for the other councilmen to enter the chamber. One by one, the wise men from Demacia entered the council chamber, each taking their respective seat in the circle of thrones around the room. Eventually, all of the seats were full except for the grand throne. This throne was a foot or so above all of the others. While the other thrones were a dullish brown color, this one was bright gold and twice as big. The oak chamber doors opened a last time, and King Jarvan Lightshield III entered through. His cloak surpassed his entire body and stretched a few feet onto the floor, sliding with him across the room. The council members stood with their heads bowed. Bart attempted to push himself up from the chair in order to stand as well, however his weight caused him to fall back into the chair. His face became red and he looked around to make sure nobody had seen.
The king sat at his throne, and raised his hand, signaling for the councilmen to sit. "We are gathered today to listen to the proposal of Councilman Bart Spiritmight. Bart, you have the floor," spoke the king eloquently.
"Erm, uh yes," stumbled the plump man. "I uhm, think that we are giving too much money to the military. All of the councilmens' personal quarters are old and need renovation, m'lord." A few of the fellow council members seemed to shake their heads in disapproval, while only a couple seemed to agree with him. "I propose we shut down the third regiment, as we haven't needed it in over a year."
Throughout the meeting, the king listened to the rest of the man's proposal, and the arguments for and against the proposal. In the end, it was decided that the third regiment was to be placed in an "off-duty" status for a year, and in return the money could be used to renovate the men's personal quarters. At the end of the meeting, the king and the councilmen left as quickly as they came in, leaving Bart sitting alone in his throne.
The chamber for the councilmen sat atop the castle, with one side of it exposed to the outside world, being held up by a few pillars. As you'd know if you've ever been to Demacia, (which is where I'm writing this tale) the architecture if very beautiful. Bart decided he would stay here for the sundown, half because of beauty, and half because he wasn't quite sure whether or not he was stuck in the chair.
After the sun had passed into the void, Bart pushed himself up, and waddled to the great oak doors. He pushed them open, and started down the dark hallways. Although his personal quarters were the closest to the chambers, and two or three hallways away at most, he was red in the face and panting by the time he got to his room. He swung open the door, and entered through it. Bart's room was dull, (as you'll remember from the meeting that day) and consisted of a big red bed, a chest at the foot of it, and a great leather armchair suitable for a man of Bart's size.
Bart immediately noticed a small black box on his bed. It was playing some sort of lullaby on bells. Bart took a couple steps towards it. Who would give me such a gift? He wondered. It's not even close to my day of birth. Bart reached out to touch the gift when suddenly a puppet of a clown popped out of it. Out of the puppet's mouth shot a dart which lodged itself in Bart's stomach. Bart felt his strength leaving him, and it took all of it to bring himself to his bed. He fell onto it, and rolled onto his back, before realizes that he could no longer move.
"Today really is a great day," said a strained ominous voice. Bart searched where the voice was coming from with his eyes, until they fell upon his armchair. How had he not seen the figure before? In the chair sat a jester, with a cruel smile. One half of him was covered in clothes the color of grass, while the other half of darkness. The most terrifying part about this man was his eyes. They glowed, but it was not a glow of light. It's hard to explain, but those who have seen the jester and lived to tell the tale explain the glow as that of pure fear itself. Bart attempted to force a scream, but he could only manage a tiny cough. "Did you see the sunset?" Began the jester again. "I mean it was to DIE for. Just absolute beauty in its finest, wouldn't you say?" Bart again tried his voice, to no avail. "Well then, if you aren't going to talk, I shall. Unfortunately, somebody is not happy with your proposal you made today. How unfortunate."
"W…What d…do you want?" stuttered Bart as a bit of strength entered into him.
"I just wanted a day to relax in the sun! But no, I just had to get hired on today of all days," replied the clown. "Which is unfortunate for you, I suppose." The jester pulled from seemingly nowhere two small blades and began to juggle them. Seeing that Bart had a look of terror in his eyes, the clown began to look angry. "Aren't you entertained? I'm putting my life in danger juggling these blades and yet you look as if you'd seen Fiddlesticks himself!"
"I'm sorry…Please!" begged Bart.
"Hi sorry….I'm Shaco!" The clown began to laugh hysterically to himself at the mention of his joke. Once more he saw that Bart had not found the jest funny at all. "You know what? That's just rude. And I don't like rude people. We're going to have to take care of that." Shaco once more juggled the blades, and threw them high into the air, and turned his back. The blades landed in Bart's belly, as Shaco could tell from the sound of flesh being torn. He walked out of the room, still chuckling to himself. "Heheheh…Hi sorry…I'm Shaco…"