Bilgewater was notorious for the criminals and sketchy inhabitants it harbored; various champions had beginnings here. The land itself had a unique beauty to it – at least the residents thought so. The city was built on the islands titled – Blue Flame Islands; just several miles from Icathia and Bandle City. The Guardian's Sea surrounds the merciless island, surrounded by docks harboring endless ships. History had been made here the moment Gangplank had taken reign of the islands once he single-handedly drew the last breath from his father; The previous Reaver King. The islands were under his rule without contest, but it didn't maintain the scurvy pests at bay. Twisted Fate and Graves were recurring residents always in the move while plotting to overthrow the Reaver King, along with the renowned Bounty Hunter, Miss Fortune.
To mention the amount of times the four have clashed and distorted the land with the exchange of firepower would take an eternity. The land had developed battle scars from these clash of the titans, and countless bodies had been sacrificed to the sea for the sake of a title; not to mention the collateral damage inflicted upon Gangplank's ship and crew during the heat of battle.
The islands itself were on par with Noxus' ideals, at least to an extent, but no royalty nor nobility existed here. Only riches obtained through blood and flesh; to be exchanged with equal or high priced items. Nobody settled for less, only for whatever piqued their interest.
Runeterra was avidly aware of the various races which populated the world, along with a realm called "The Void". Human, Yordles, and Voidlings filled the heterogeneous society. There were, of course, exceptions to the races which Runeterra had yet to identify, especially with the consistent arrival of new champions hailing from other worlds. The only tactic to unveil these alien races was simple; keep your eyes open.
Bandits, murderers, notorious gang members mostly inhabited the islands of Bilgewater, but one should consider the pockets of innocence some residents harbored, or in this case, a temporary citizen.
Rays of natural light beamed through the shroud of clouds engulfing the surrounding land, and to one particular female, it would gesture that morning had arrived. Scrunching her nose as her lids wrinkled at the ray of light intercepting through the small tear of her curtain, blinding her temporary. The female would roll onto her backside, softening her features at the lingering darkness filling her ample room. Exhaling contently, her lids would flutter open, revealing a set of emerald pools. A lock of silver tresses would roll down her forehead to veil her vision until a hand rose to tuck that strand behind her ear. Just as her figure stretched out upon turning, failing to feel the edge of the mattress, she'd collapse onto the wooden floor with a loud thud, followed by a groan.
The bed sheets had been pulled off to encase her in a thin cocoon. Emitting those groaning sounds under the covers, the silver-haired woman would poke her head and hazily examine her room; part of her daily routine. Shuffling under the soft sheets before peeling them from her figure, the woman rose to a stand to stretch out with an exaggerated yawn – how unlady-like.
Forming a path of clothes on her journey to the bathroom, the knobs to the faucet would be tampered with to achieve a desirable luke-warm temperature. Testing the water by dipping her toe into the steaming water, she smiled meekly before stepping entirely in. Washing off the dead skin cells from yesterday and last night along with the musk and other invisible which latched onto her porcelain skin complexion, the lathered loofah would scrub her body vigorously. Pouring a generous amount of shampoo, the bubbling thick liquid would be massaged into her scalp and thoroughly spread onto her tips - the process was to be repeated with the conditioner. Turning the knobs to cut off the water, two towels would drape her figure; one twisted around her cranium to absorb the water from her drenched tresses.
Today's attire would be a layered set consisting; long-sleeved beige peasant top, black pleated skirt and matching knee-high boots to top off. An apron had been packed for near-future use. Various toiletries joined the apron when stored into her messenger bag she conveniently used for storage. Breakfast would consist of bread and juice to-go. Once outside of her comfortable home, the woman resumed the consumption of her meal-to-go while subconsciously following the invisible path leading her to work.
Stagnant air seeped into her nostrils, which were already accustomed to the stench, but couldn't resist wrinkling them on occasion. Humming a pleasant tune as she sauntered down the crooked streets while avoiding polluted puddles to stain her boots, the sketchy establishment she worked for hadn't been too far off. The hidden bar tucked in a secluded alleyway completely dismissed the possible dangers it may harbor.
Clocking in for duty, the female would unpack her apron to adjust it to her figure and openly present herself to the gloomy crowd. Lips curved into a bright smile, the waitress known as Shiva would enter the scene.
"Good morning, everyone!" she called out to the unresponsive crowd.
The sun had only cracked hours ago and already men had toppled over their seats after inebriating themselves for various reasons. Exhaling softly, the waitress had been accustomed to such sights on an hourly basis, but even then she would remain considerate by turning them onto their sides to prevent them from choking on their vomit. Lives had been saved due to her kind nature, and the waitress had gained mutual respect in turn.
History on this run-down bar; waitresses were an exceptionally rare breed to come across, especially with the crowd they'd have to deal with. The consistent harassing from the patrons could've been enough to drive the female workers away, but the threats received were perhaps the breaking point. Questionable characters lurked this bar in particular, leading to a completely understaffed establishment as only one cook, a bartender, a server, and the 'manager' co-existed here. Prior to Shiva's recruitment, they'd go through waitresses like running water. Every other day they'd have to hire waiters and waitresses to fill the role of serving patrons their meals or beverages. They figured women were best suited as they'd receive less threats than the males; lower chances, even. Sexual harassment towards women consisted of random swats to the rear, suggestive language, and advances which were never fully carried out. Tougher personas tolerated the smacking of her posterior, but would often retort in an aggressive manner – in hopes they'd cease their actions, but it would merely encourage them. One faithful day, the manager would hire the silver-haired woman in hopes she'd endure longer than just a day or two.
One of the gods must have been charitable that day to bestow upon him this woman.
Not only did Shiva tolerate the sexual harassment, but minded it no attention – patrons grew bored at how she failed to reciprocate their perverse actions, and advancing into seducing the woman proved worse. Often the men would be greeted with a dumbfounded smile followed by out-of-context statements; rejections, in short. Either this woman was an expert in the art of politely rejecting advancements, held a natural repellant, or just flat-out an idiot. Either way, the woman was able to handle herself and the patrons in an effective manner. Distributing the tasteless food to the patrons, Shiva would know why they preferred to indulge in the amber hued scotch drinks or crystal clear vodka burning their throats to suppress thoughts or memories haunting them day-in and day-out. Either way, the waitress would use the ingredients and cooking utensils to create her own plates, often leaving a pleasant aroma to the patrons who never questioned its source.
Today held the potential to be permanently slow, and with few bodies already laying on their sides, lowering the number of actual active patrons. Refilling drink after drink of rum, grog, vodka, and anything on the display shelf, the waitress would finally have a moment's worth of rest to sit down and chow on her chicken soup she had made a pot of. Enjoying her meal, the woman lightly kicked her feet under the table while humming a pleasant tune to herself. The voice was delicate and inviting, almost like a lullaby to those within ear's reach, but a sudden sneeze would disturb the awkward silence which had befallen upon her.
Evening was upon them, and the crowd had grown rowdy and unstable. The poor waitress would have to maneuver through the rough crowd consistently shoving her around, proving difficult to sometimes reach a designated table to distribute their drinks. Upon leaning forward to set down the glass cups, a cool sensation caught her attention to her chest. One of the patrons at the table had taken amusement in testing his aim with flicking a single gold coin into the small slit of her top – he succeeded. Offering him an embarrassed smile, the man grinned confidently at scoring.
"Your tip, pretty lady" he uttered in a low and husky voice.
"Thank you, sir, I truly appreciate it" she beamed a bright smile at him before bowing politely and dismissing herself from their table.
Holding the large platter over her thighs to prevent it from obstructing others on her journey to the bar. The loud chants, singing, and fights occurring in the middle of the cafe would cease the moment the front door swung open. A cool breeze reached every corner of the room, blowing some of the steam from the kitchen as a tall and husky man entered. Flames from the candles flickered as the door closed behind the man; everyone returned to their seats with heads lowered. The bartender motioned for Shiva to approach him, setting down a large canteen of grog for her.
The man who silenced the room was none other than the true owner; Gangplank. Heavy boots caused the wooden floor to cry under his weight, his posture standing upright until he settled upon table which had been emptied for his convenience. Immediately the bartender sent her to deliver the drink which had yet to be requested by the man. Approaching this brute who none dared to stare at his general direction, Shiva set down the heavy canteen with a light thud before the man glared at her. A frightening shiver coursed down her spine, capable of immobilizing her as he snatched the drink for himself to take a large swig and groaned in satisfaction. He stared at the content of the canteen, almost as if inspecting it after his indulgence.
"What are you standing there for, lass? They're not paying ya to stand there and stare at me, are they?" he spoke to her.
"O-oh, my apologies, please excuse me" she bowed politely to him before moving along.
Gangplank stared at the woman through his peripheral vision, attempting to study the woman who worked at his establishment. How peculiar; this grog had a different taste to the usual, the taste had been enhanced. Least, what he thought.
"Where is my meal?" he called out, as if complaining over an order requested in silence which had been failed to be delivered.
"One moment!" Shiva would pace into the kitchen, assisting the cook with the half-cooked meal he had prepared.
Adding a selection of spices and herbs to the steak and potatoes platter, with a side of vegetables. Impatient, the captain rose from his seat to instigate why his meal hadn't arrived yet, but the waitress would appear before he could move another limb. Setting the plate down with utensils, the captain would glare down before sinking back down onto his seat.
"Next time you take this long, I'll slit your throat..." he commented.
Receiving no response to his threat, he found the waitress standing there with wide eyes staring at him.
"Such rude behavior you've inherited, lass. Would you care to join me if I'm so fascinating to you?" he chuckled dryly, humoring her antics.
"I'd love to, but I believe my service for tonight has concluded" the woman bowed politely to him "Please enjoy your food".
Dismissing her service from his table, Shiva disappeared from his line of sight.
"Marcus" he called.
"Yes, sir?" the manager responded.
"Who was that" the captain crudely forked the slab of meat to present it to his mouth as it took a large bite.
"Shiva, our waitress" Marcus would utter.
Upon thoroughly chewing his steak, an audible gulp would sound as he stared upon his hearty meal. His eyes would trail the path she had taken before leaving the establishment, another large bite would be chewed on as his lids narrowed.
"Give me the key to my room. Tomorrow, I depart" he commanded to Marcus as he received his key immediately.
His meal had been finished, leaving not a single crumb as he rose from his seat and sauntered off into the narrow corridor leading to a row of vacant rooms. The captain's resided in the far end, a fair-sized room furnished to basic commodities. Opting to not remove anything from his weary frame, the man slumped on the creaking bed as his head rested on a low pillow and ankles crossed along with his arms over his chest. Tilting his hat down to use as a shield against the dim light, the pirate would fall into slumber, but not without a smug grin dawning his features.