I have noticed a disturbing shortage of Dota 2 stories on this website, despite the amazing potential this universe has. So I've decided to rectify that. If you like this story, leave me a review telling me you did, if you didn't, leave me a review telling me how I can improve it. Criticism is welcome and encouraged. As usual, legal stuff, yada yada, blah bleh blah, now on to the story.

Lanaya would usually never be so careless as to actually get herself captured, sure she'd suffered a few close calls in the past but had never let her guard down. Ambushed! She nearly laughed to herself. I let myself get ambushed, amazing.

She blew a strand of hair away from her face. It was hot here, under this tent's shade, whatever few beams of strong sunlight filtered through the canopy outside illuminated the dust and ash that floated through the air within the tent, even the very earth seemed to heave in the heat, emanating a smell of raw tilled soil. She sat, rather was bound to, a chair planted firmly in the cracked grey earth, her wrists chained together behind the backrest and her ankles shackled to the chair legs. The skin around her wrists were already raw from struggling.

Through the canvas walls she saw shapes slinking about outside, figures, creeps, the clattering of stacks of swords and the sound of hammers against metal and wood. A table sat in the corner of the tent, rows of sharp knives, spiked mauls and barbed skewers laid out meticulously atop it, some dull and dusty, others polished and sharpened, and even a few with red-brown stains still along their edge.

At first the Templar Assassin eyed the flap entrance to the tent, her mind already imagining who would walk through there, running through a dozen different scenarios of how she'd orchestrate her great escape. Unfortunately, most of these scenarios ended with her getting tortured as she couldn't figure out how to get free of her chains. She couldn't unknot them or loosen them, when she conjured her psionic blades they couldn't reach around to cut the chains on her wrists.

She sat straight and glanced back over her shoulder, inspecting the violet energy shears in her palms. She'd never really mastered magic beyond simple rune traps and summoning energy blades from her fingers, maybe if she could just curve her fingers around…

Footsteps scrunching across dirt, the flap of a canvas door being parted. Lanaya immediately looked straight ahead and adopted an expression she hoped conveyed bravado.

A soft green glow filled the tent as a tall, decrepit man stepped in, robed in green with a tall bidet atop his crown. His hands, long and bony, were folded neatly behind his back, he carried himself with composure, but his face spoke of the twisted things that filled his mind, his skin sunken in and looking more akin to a skull with skin stretched painfully over it, pulled taut till his mouth was affixed in an eternal scowl.

He looked disdainfully at her, silent, he gave no introduction but she knew him. He was Rotund'jere, the Necrophos, Elicitor of Secrets and Provoker of Screams, wickedly wise and twisted in the mind. The stories of torture his victims suffered were whispered in half-believed tales, the survivors left maimed and unrecognisable as human. He wasn't as sadistic as the Queen of Pain, but nonetheless dangerous.

Lanaya tilted her chin at him, raising an eyebrow. "So? Get to the torture then!"

Behind her back her hands continued to manipulate her psi blades, trying to angle themselves to cut the chains wound tightly around her wrists. Rotund'jere's smile contorted into something else unintelligible, coughing out a slow, long chuckle. "So eager to suffer…"

He crossed the tent to the table, what few weeds and sprigs had managed to force their way through the earth withered and died as he neared, even Lanaya could feel her chest seizing up and her breaths getting shallower. But she didn't let it show, all she did in response was to follow his path with bored eyes.

The Necrophos picked out the nearest tool on the table, a mallet with dull spikes along its head. As he scrutinised it, weighed its effectiveness with the other tools, he spoke. "I am sure you know my name, so there is no need for introductions." His bony hands glided over the list of weapons, pausing and raising a double edged knife with barbs along its side. "You've been quite a thorn in my side these past few days, causing all your… disturbances, here."

'Here' referred to the region of the Jungle this Dire camp was situated and of which Necrophos was chief, and 'disturbances', referred to certain missions she and her team of four other heroes had gone on. The waylaying of patrols, the disappearance of supplies, the occurrence of accidents. Of course it was never as simple as that, problems always arose, chief among these occurrences were the Curious Case of the Keen, the Intriguing Intrusion of the Intelligible Treant, and worst of all, the Honey Badger Incident. She took a moment from her efforts to cringe at the last one.

Lanaya furrowed her brows. Her psi blades followed the line of her hand, and her hands were bound too tightly for her to angle the blades to cut her chains. She needed to find another way. Another way…

Rotund'jere's hand lingered over a bladed skewer, then settled upon it. He held it up to the soft glow of light to scrutinise its tines. "You've been such a thorn that you've pricked the side of my higher ups, and their higher ups. Yes, Ostarion himself has put a mark on your head."

That caught her attention. The Wraith King usually kept himself disentangled from the complexities of the war, commanding the Dire Legions from his throne. But her antics must have been more effective than she'd thought.

"And as such a thorn, I am to deliver you bound and gagged to my King, to be taken as a trophy. Officially, I have not even captured you yet, you are still prancing about the forest meddling in our affairs. I have a day before I must make my mandatory report to my superiors and deliver you to them, but until then…"

Necrophos turned back to face her and she immediately swung her head back over her shoulder to face him, pretending to look at the long serrated knife between his thin fingers with passive boredom. Behind her back she was still trying to manoeuvre her blades to shear her bonds.

He raised an eyebrow at her lack of emotion, "Do you not fear this knife? What I will do to you?"

She was afraid, but she kept her lips sealed adamantly. A bead of sweat she hoped he didn't notice crept down the side of her face, betraying her. Her wrists began to bleed from her struggling, a single drop sliding down the ball of her palm. This isn't working, I need to find another way…

Rotund'jere raised his knife so it was level with her lips, hidden behind her mask. He sneered, "No matter, you will learn the meaning of fear in its entirety very soon."

Her heart screamed in her ears, a message she understood. Find a way out, live, survive.

Your blades. Psionic Blades, bright, flashy, conspicuous.

He drew his arm back slightly, preparing to thrust his knife through her mask and lips.

How do you use them? I throw them at enemies from a distance and-

Throw? Why don't I throw them. Her arms were bound, she didn't have enough space to throw them at Rotund'jere.

Her composure seemed to falter for a moment as his sneer widened into an approximation of a gruesome grin. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream, at least she'd try not to.

I can't throw them at him, some more composed part of Lanaya mused. But why does he have to be the target?

Target. Lanaya furrowed her brows, she needed a target. Her eyes flitted around, looking for something close, something near to strike, anything she could do.

Then she realised the ropes on her legs were adjacent to her blades.

Even as Rotund'jere stabbed with his knife, Lanaya flicked her wrists, psi blades and all, painfully forward, the blades detached themselves from her fingers and shot forward, bleeding through the ropes that bound her ankles to the chair legs. She felt heat as the blades melted a layer of skin off her ankles.

Her body seemed to slide down of its own accord as the Necrophos' blade sliced through the air with a hollow sound, pain, a single thought: You weren't fast enough.

Lanaya rolled away, something warm on the side of her face. Sweat? She saw drops of blood staining the ashen, cracked ground.

He growled, "What? How-"

She was bleeding. Her hand rose to her face and she felt a curtain of warm, viscous blood along the side of her face. His knife had cut her. One of her eyes twitched shut as the hot, stinging blood seeped through the gap of her eyelids.

One hand seemed glued to the right side of her crown, clutching the wound where the most blood fell. In the other another psi blade formed as Rotund'jere snarled and reached out for her, the other hand drawing back the knife again for another stab.

The Templar Assassin tried to send a psi blade flying into his chest but one of his hands, thin but with a spry strength in his malnourished arms, grabbed her wrist and sent the blade flying high, slicing a gaping hole in the roof of the tent, the other of his hands sending the blade arcing underhand straight for her heart. The snarl upon his lips seemed to twist in victory.

She couldn't conjure her psi blade back in time, she couldn't do anything other than watch in horror as the blade seemed to slowly glide towards her skin, slow, slow…

Lanaya's brows furrowed as she realised that the blade was actually moving slowly, sluggishly, with a deep cracking sound like shattering rock its flight stopped completely. She looked up and saw the sneer still upon Rotund'jere's face, but his skin now more grey than green, even blue, a thick layer of ice crystals materialising along his entire body, immobilising it in place, immortalising that ugly snarl. Clear blue shards poked out from under his robe, encasing his feet and head, coating his joints especially thick. His serrated blade hovered inches from her ribs.

Lanaya realised what had happened, a smile actually crept across her face, a mix of incredulity and joy. She pried her wrist from the Necrophos' now cold, stone-like grip, taking a moment to massage the raw wounds from her ropes, before intoning, "You know, you cut it a little close there."

"Ah," came a bright, young voice. "You should be glad I came at all, this isn't a very nice place to get to."

Rylai, the Crystal Maiden, stepped out from behind the Necrophos, a splash of vibrant sapphire, white and gold on the grey and red world here. Her eyes crossed at Lanaya worriedly, "You're… bleeding."

"Well that tends to happen when you get roped to a chair for torture." Lanaya kept one hand pressed to her wound, dimly aware of a numb, blunt pain there. She shook her head to clear it of a few black spots she hadn't noticed there before. "Anyways, how did you get through the camp?"

"Well, I waited till the sentries changed shift then snuck in. Are you sure you'll be fine?"

The Templar Assassin removed her right hand and realised it was drenched and dripping with blood. She tried to hide her panick, "Y-Yeah, I'm good. We need to focus on getting out of here. Where are the others?"

Rylai's scowl was replaced by a pout, "Sven wanted to come with me but Juggernaut said it was dangerous and you could 'handle yourself', I got bored of their arguing and well, you know the rest."

Lanaya did indeed, heroes, Radiant and Dire alike, were usually dispatched in teams of five. The last member of their team, well, they preferred not to talk about him, he'd disappeared on 'secondary objectives' so much that they'd learnt to operate as efficiently as any other team with only the four of them.

She sidled up to the flap doors of the tent, parting them with one finger of her free hand and glancing outside. They were in the middle of a Dire field camp, both sides regularly made outposts like these on both sides of the river that divided the battlefield.

There were other tents and shelters in the outpost, a palisade wall closing off the whole camp, the forest cut down around it. Dire Creeps, creatures with maroon skin and black masks that were once men and women, hurried along the gaps between tents and along well-trod dirt paths, growling at each other, somewhere, someone yelled out far away commands. Some creeps hammered fortifications onto the walls, others had their arms piled high with rough swords, some walked into tents, others walked out. All consciously avoided the one they were in, Necrophos' torture tent.

It wasn't well guarded on the outskirts, for a field camp with so many Creeps, just a few sentries with basic magic staves hobbling along the walls, but from within here there were too many to escape from unnoticed. Lanaya frowned, "There's too many to fight, definitely. How did you get through the walls anyway?"

"They got sloppy clearing the forest around back, there's a tree there with a branch that hangs over the wall. Are you sure you're fine, you look pale."

"You're one to talk," Lanaya joked, Rylai's skin was lighter than most. But truthfully, she wasn't feeling too golden. "I'll be fine," the Templar lied. "Just help me find a way out of here."

She glanced back at the Necrophos worriedly to make sure he was still frozen solid, white mist slowly gliding off his crystallised form. "So? Any ideas?"

Rylai joined her at the entrance to the tent flap, consciously trying to mimick the way Lanaya stood, slightly leaning forward, parting the flap with one finger, heels raised as if to spring away at the slightest sound. She looked quite ridiculous considering she was trying to balance her sceptre in the crook of her arm as well. "Well, there's tents throughout the camp, most of them are for storage but others, forges or workstations I think. I don't know which from which. I heard some of the creeps talking about a butcher somewhere here, maybe they have a baker too."

"Focus."

"Sorry, maybe we could run, tent to tent?"

That was risky, they wouldn't know which tents had creeps inside or not, and some might enter while they were trying to hide, or someone might spy them when they were crossing the space between tents. Lanaya shook her head, "No, still too dangerous. What we need, is a distraction."

Rylai scoffed in her bright, cheerful voice. "How are we going to-"

At that moment there was a sound like thunder, metal impacting metal, something splitting, and a scream that shattered the chorus of noise. The heads of the creeps seemed to turn as one towards the gates, where the noise had come from, then with a great battlecry they surged forward. They grabbed the nearest things that passed for weapons, hammers, nails, anvils, those with swords in their arms were mobbed by the others, and as one they charged towards the gates, shrieks for blood rising from their number. Even the sentries ran along the walls to the front of the camp.

Rylai asked, "Uh, what was that?"

Lanaya grabbed her friend's wrist with her left hand, the other still pressed to her forehead. She made sure Rotund'jere was still frozen, and then she backed up a few steps. "That is called a distraction."

The Templar Assassin took off running, a Crystal Maiden in tow, struggling to keep pace. Lanaya turned on the balls of her heels and ran around Necrophos' tent for the back of the camp. She was greeted by more rows of tents between her and the far wall, where she could see trees leaning over into the camp. Necrophos' tent must be in the centre, a small army on all sides.

Of course this army was now concentrated at the front of the camp, investigating, or probably attacking, whatever had caused such a scream. Lanaya looked around, there were barely any creeps left, those who lingered didn't stay much longer, heading off towards the gates themselves. She tightened her grip on Rylai and kept running.

They passed tent after tent of grey canvas, blood red symbols painted crudely on their doors. Lanaya's eye caught that of a creep stepping out of one, but she didn't stop as he snarled and lunged at them, missing and sliding into the dirt. She didn't bother to stop.

"Lanaya!" Rylai called out. "He saw us!"

She growled, "We need to get out of here, they'll find out anyway when they find our frozen friend."

Dimly aware of her companion nodding breathlessly, the Templar Assassin drew her friend close and heard the creep they'd passed shouting, "The prisoner's escaping!"

There were more creeps who'd stayed behind then she'd thought. They tumbled out onto a crossroads of dirt paths, a pack of creeps, brandishing a club, a sword and a frying pan among other weapons, roared battlecries for blood as they charged them at a frightening pace. Lanaya pulled Rylai close and shoved her through the gap between two tents, following close behind, pulling down a rack of crudely fashioned blades behind them.

They'd arrived at the wall, Rylai was right, the forest had barely been cut here. The Crystal Maiden tugged on Lanaya's arm, "There!"

She followed her gaze, a single tree, a gnarled unhealthy thing with black bark and barely any green upon it, with a single branch that reached out over the palisade.

A sentry still prowling along the wall snarled and swung his staff, a bolt of hot magic shooting towards them. Lanaya ducked out of the way as Rylai thrust her staff forward. The creep tried to swing his staff again but his body slowed to the point of stopping, with a sharp crack crystals grew along his form, immobilising him.

The sound of shots and clattering weapons, nearer now, separated only by a wall of canvas. Lanaya could already see shadows of creeps in them, their blades stabbing through the fabric walls and cutting them open.

She helped Rylai up onto the platform along the wall, Rylai reached down and helped her up in return. They ran down the length of the wall to where the tree was, now in clear view of the creeps who'd peeled away to pursue them, quite a number. One of them threw what was in his hand, a rusted kitchen knife, that embedded itself firmly in the wood under Lanaya's feet. The others followed his example, throwing whatever was in their hand, mostly their own weapons, and soon whatever they could find. Most of them flew far off, but a few came close.

A chair splintered against the wall next to Lanaya's head, she picked one of the shattered pieces and flung it blindly towards the crowd below. Some of them, the smarter ones most likely, had crossed to the stairs to ascend the wall to chase them on foot.

Blades thunked into the log wall, other blunt implements bounced off with hollow noises. A cooking pot, or a chamber pot maybe, nearly struck her head. Lanaya grabbed Rylai and pulled her back as a sword flew through the air and sunk into the wood where she'd been a moment before. More items flew, mostly cooking tools now, a large cast iron wok bounced off the palisade and Lanaya grabbed it, using it as a shield for both of them.

They came under the tree quickly in their haste. Lanaya knew they couldn't linger, they were easy targets even to these creatures' poor aim here. She knelt down, propping her cooking wok shield against her side, and cupped her hands as a foothold, "Up."

Rylai placed her foot on Lanaya's hands and jumped up, for a second her hands scrabbled for purchase on the bark, before she found her grip. She reached down, "Come on, Lanaya!"

The Templar Assassin was about to take her friend's hand when she realised something, the branch was already bending, a knife thrown at Rylai stuck itself in the bark and it dipped dangerously. It was barely strong enough to hold Rylai, as light as she was, it would break with the weight of both of them.

She gestured Rylai away, "Go first! It's too weak for both of us!"

The creeps throwing their cooking articles weren't much of a threat, except for the odd sword or knife, but there was a pack bearing down from either side of the wall, about to sandwich her in a vice of swords and bloodlust.

The tree's branch groaned noisily and Rylai understood, hurriedly shuffling along the branch. Another pot, or maybe a knife, or a hammer, bounced off the wok shield Lanaya crouched behind. She watched Rylai's progress nervously, aware of the creeps along the wall loping closer and closer.

Once Rylai had shuffled far enough along the branch, Lanaya stood, preparing to jump and grab on to safety, then she realised that the branch was too high overhead for her to make it on her own. How didn't I notice that before! Maybe it was the head wound, or the blood loss, or the thrill of being chased by several dozen demons.

A sword, at least it was supposed to be a sword, bounced off her wok and clattered along the wall. She grabbed it, time to improvise.

Lanaya stuck it firmly into the side of the palisade, grabbing it and testing it to see if it was secure. The creeps along one side of the wall, behind her, had reached her. She threw her wok at them, kicking the nearest creep and sending him falling onto his companions behind. Now she had no cover. The other pack, on the wall in front, was almost upon her. She planted one foot firmly on the blade she'd stuck securely into the wall, using it as a foothold she lunged upwards, the tips of her fingers wrapping around the branch, which bent downwards frighteningly.

Lanaya glanced down and saw the two packs meet together, leaping up and trying to grab her ankles. She drew them up as their clammy fingers closed in the air over nothing, their owners falling back to the wall, shrieking.

A bowl bounced off her branch, a cleaver stuck firmly in the wood. The creeps were now boosting each other up, trying to reach the branch. Lanaya ran along it, despite its pained groans, creaks and much shaking of wood.

She glanced back and saw one of the creeps, its side stained with mud and its mask scratched and chipped, had managed to scrabbled its way onto the branch. Another was already following him up.

Lanaya saluted them smugly, before flicking her wrist and sliding down the tree in one motion. The branch, parted from the tree by a deftly thrown psi blade, fell into the camp with the creeps that had clambered onto it crashing into the rest of their swarm. A satisfying chorus of screams, shouts and general chaos ensued.

Lanaya staggered off into the underbrush, smiling at a panting Rylai with hands on her knees. They shared a glance, one thrilled, one exasperated, before she asked, "One for the books?"

Rylai raised a hand as she panted a moment longer, before swallowing, smiling, and agreeing, "One for the books."

Well, that was chapter one. Leave a review, tell me if you liked it, if you didn't, if you want more, or if you want me to uninstall Dota and join LoL.