Here's yet another different kind of project from Distraction—this time, some insight on Thresh, the Spooky Lantern Ghost, in honor of his new (long overdue) skin and also in time for The Harrowing event! Tricks and treats abound, my friends.
Just a note: the Spider Queen actually has power here in the Isles. Hence the obedience an' such.
Here we go.
-Bound and Determined-
Chains rattled faintly and, in the very center of the Valoran Sea, a maelstrom of wind howled, twisting into a dark, ominous tornado that funneled in the atmosphere and transformed it into something more…
Twisted.
The cause of this disturbance was located near a chain of tiny little islands known as the Shadow Isles. Every sailor worth his salt knew to avoid this particular segment of the ocean, for hundreds upon thousands of good men had fallen prey to the lure of the Spider Queen or had been dragged bodily from the very deck of their trusty vessel by Thresh, the Chain Warden.
"Hungry…"
An ominous creak echoed across the waves, somehow loud enough to be heard above the baying winds, and a small, bright blue orb of ghostly light appeared within the vortex's core, bobbing gently for a moment before warping and pulsating wildly.
As it began to take shape, the waters calmed and the winds died—as though the tumultuous energy had been absorbed by the mysterious sphere. After a moment, a distinct form could be made out: a hulking, armor-clad creature, its face contorted into a snarl. In one clawed hand it gripped a long chain at the end of which there was the wickedly curved blade of a scythe. In the other was a lantern from which a faint, mournful keening sound could be heard—like the cry of a lone wolf echoing across the mountain tops.
The Chain Warden took a step forward, the water trembling obediently beneath booted feet, and the keys hanging from his waistband clanking terrifyingly. He paused and canted his head to the side, the three tendrils that flowed from it twitching restlessly.
He could sense some faint presence on the island. One that did not belong.
Sure enough, a tendril of glowing red energy extended like a ghostly fingertip from the sky, curling slightly before exploding outwards. As the sweet stench of death wafted across the waves, mixing in with their own salty scent, Thresh's glow intensified.
"Souls…"
…
It didn't take long before the Champion's feet touched dry land and he marched smartly past the thorny bramble that choked the life from the soil, his footsteps making no sound despite the broken bits of glass and stone in his path. In fact, the only thing that could grow here were the trees that rose up out of the ground, their bare limbs reaching out desperately, blackened and twisted from the dark magicks that permeated the air.
Dozens of glowing eyes peered from between their sprawled roots, the creatures that owned them being atrocious beyond description, but the Chain Warden didn't falter, his senses zeroing in on the wretched soul that had just been freed from its fleshy form.
Ah… There it was.
Floating inauspiciously in the center of the wood was a single ball of energy that pulsated with the same light that Thresh's lantern exuded and he stopped before it, reaching out a clawed hand—
Only to hiss and draw away as a magical explosion scorched the ground near where his feet had been.
From between the trees came a robed phantom, his face a bony mask of scorn and sadism.
"Deathsinger…"
"That soul is mine Chain Warden," the specter returned, the hateful, red glow of its gaze like a physical stab in the jugular. Thresh instinctively lifted a hand to his throat, though he had long since lost any need for such a thing, and met that chilling glare head-on.
For a moment neither moved. Then, there was a soft skittering sound and both Champions looked away from the meal at hand to catch a glimpse of a trail of rather large spiders as they made their way across the desecrated ground.
"The Spider Queen calls," a new voice proclaimed—this one cultured, measured. From between the trees hobbled a burly, hunch-backed man; ghouls drifted lazily in his wake and there was a spade clutched in bandaged hands, the frightening lantern hanging from a pole strapped to his back giving off an eerie light. The Gravedigger waved his hand and the soul was instantly snuffed out, giving a faint cry as it disappeared. "The dead are meant to be laid to rest. Desist your quarrelling and come."
…
At the heart of the haunted wood lay the cavernous entrance to the very bowels of hell itself and within that cave lived the Spider Queen's brood: sacs filled to the brim with pure evil writhing in the shadows of the structure's mouth.
The Spider Queen herself—a tall, elegant woman with short black hair wearing a black, leather corset that revealed the flat expanse of her stomach and black and red tights with flowing coattail-like bits—was sitting upon a throne woven entirely from shining strands of web, her chin nestled in the palm of her hand and a particularly bored look on her lovely face.
Standing behind her throne was a suit of armor, crimson eyes glowing from within the ornate helm. They flicked to Karthus and Thresh and his fingers tightened around the wicked looking mace in his hand. "Greetings, comrades."
"I require entertainment," Elise interjected, cutting off the pointless niceties. "I feel as though some blood sport is in order."
A thrill ran down Thresh's spine and a dark, anticipatory chuckle disturbed the silence that followed her statement.
Blood sport meant humans. Humans meant plenty of fresh souls ripe for the plundering.
Of course, fresh souls were not meals worthy of having. Only after it had been properly seasoned with eons of torment was a soul ready to be devoured. Much like fine wine, the very essence of mortal existence got even better with time.
Slow, torturous time.
"Where is that wretched creature?" the woman was complaining, crossing her legs—all three pairs of them—at the ankles. She frowned and, from behind her, the egg sacs stirred in response to their mother's ire. "Hecarim."
From the distance, the distinct sound of hooves travelling quickly over a hard surface could be heard and they were getting louder. The ground beneath the gathered Champions' feet trembled Then, from the thicket burst the Shadow of War: a horse-like creature comprised entirely of blue, otherworldly flames. He came to a sharp halt just before the Spider Queen, flanks heaving slightly as he pawed the loamy earth.
"Excuse my tardiness, my Queen," Hecarim rumbled, his dark voice a double tenor. He crossed his arm in front of his torso and bowed at the waist. "I have brought for you a sacrifice: humans roam the Isles—scared, lost. I have gathered them from the four corners of our world in order to provide you with a show worthy of your eminence."
Elise's exquisite face contorted into a deadly, cunning smile. "Excellent work, my friend. Rest now." To the others, she called, "Begin the hunt!"
…
Screams were all that could be heard. Screams and the desperate pleas of humans young and old, male and female, being struck down by scythe, mace, spade, and dark magic.
Crimson soaked the desecrated earth, fueling the growth of the corrupted trees, and souls shone brightly, pinpricks of ethereal light in the oppressive haze that hung over the Shadow Isles.
No one would be getting out alive.
Some gave into their fate—laid down and died at the feet of their tormentor(s). Others fled, the sound of their ragged breathing and racing hearts not able to drown out the agonized vocalizations as their fellow man met their gruesome end. Still others… fought back. They attempted to avoid the inevitable, to prove the strength of the human spirit, and for that, they were justly rewarded with a slow, painful death.
Thresh chuckled as one such foolish mortal ran into the wall of The Box, a spell that lacerated every inch of exposed flesh and caused the man to fall to his knees, screaming shrilly as blood dribbled out to create a pool beneath him. The moment his pursuer came to stand before him, he trembled and urine joined the crimson flood.
"P-please…" he whispered.
The Chain Warden canted his head to the right, swinging the scythe in his left hand in a circular motion. Already the light was dimming in the man's eyes and he could sense the soul trapped within the fleshy pile of filth fall still as it finally found peace.
Peace in death? That wouldn't do.
He lashed out with his scythe, Death Sentence jerking the man closer and Flay ripping the flesh from his bones in an instant, freeing the crying soul from its prison. The moment Thresh cast his lantern to retrieve it, it released a tormented howl, its essence quivering in distress as the energy was sapped into a parallel realm where suffering knew no limit.
Perfect.
Gun shots rang out and Thresh turned towards the source of the disturbance: he could see bright flashes of light between the trees and he headed in that direction, mindful of the spiderlings swarming over the corpses that littered the ground. It was feeding time, it seemed.
Soon, he came upon a pretty dark-haired human crouching at the sprawled roots of a tree, her chest rising and falling with each panicked breath. Her eyes were wide and blood ran down the side of her face from a gash along her hairline.
"L-Lucian?" she quavered, raising a hand to her breast as if to calm her beating heart.
Thresh's eyes were drawn to the appendage. Beneath it, he could sense the incredibly strong feelings of love and faith.
'So pure of heart…' Such feelings nurtured a strong soul—one that would be a delicacy beyond compare.
"Senna!"
The young woman threw her arms around the neck of her companion—a rugged-looking man with dark skin and long, dreadlocked hair—and a malicious smile spread across the Chain Warden's face.
Her complete and utter trust in this male would be her undoing. Her soul shone so brightly that Thresh could feel its sickening warmth from here.
He couldn't wait to taint that pure heart with pain and suffering.
-Fin-