Well, I'm making my own Judgements. Not much to say here.
Being the troll he is (and my second favorite solotop after someone you'll see later) I figured I'd do Singed first.
Candidate: Singed
Date: October 27, 19 CLE
OBSERVATION:
Eager, yet calculated footsteps echo across the stone floor of the Great Hall, giving away the anticipation and cool observation of their owner. Brown leather boots come to a stop halfway across the hall, causing the walker's shadow to extend in front of him, up to the imposing doorway on the other side of the passageway. Singed looks down at his own shape, cast in front of him by the light from the entrance.
A lanky outline looks back at him, the upper body obstructed by a cylindrical object. Gaze moving back up from the floor, he looks over his shoulder at the large green glass bottle strapped to his thin back, remembering with smug pride the difficulty it took to brew the viscous liquid that bubble dangerously inside, barely contained by the oversized cork on the top. His bony limbs look like they could barely hold his own weight, let alone the concoction he's carrying, but underneath the bandages lies a body toughened by chemical burns.
He scratches his gauze-wrapped chin with a bandaged hand, the brown wrist guards bumping against his red, bulky chestplate, which adds nonexistant dimension to his upper body. His other arm is occupied with the spiked, rectangular shield of red and yellow, wrapped around his wrist while the fingers clutch another corked potion. Spiked pauldrons of the same coloration as the rest of his armored clothing rest upon his thin shoulders.
Bald save for several spiky, burnt strands of hair, the chemist moves his hand down from his face as he steps forward, the distance between the doors and himself closing with every movement. As the doorway before him opens, his pallid cheeks, or as much of them as can be seen above the medical cloth, curl in a cruelly satisfied grin. Continuing forward with new gusto, Singed steps into the doorway with an almost affable hum, not bothering to read the inscription above the entrance as his mind casually turned away from that which does not interest him.
REFLECTION:
The darkness that enshrouded Singed as he entered the Reflecting Chamber wasn't terribly disturbing, not to him. It took a great deal more than a lack of light to affect the Zaunite in any way. His curiosity having been piqued beforehand, he now tapped his foot as he waited in the blackness before he finally moved to call out out-but as he did so, the words were stolen from his mouth.
He wasn't standing in the Reflection chamber any more, no longer did he feel the stone beneath his feet and the silence in the air. Grass crunched beneath his boots, and the wind blew his scant hair from side to side.
Far below, down in the valley upon which he was suddenly looking down upon from a highly elevated position, black, spike-armored soldiers huddled together in close defensive formation. Surrounding them, on all sides, was a steadily growing ring of enemy soldiers, their armor shades of silver and red. The black figures in the center were hard pressed on all sides, clearly outnumbered, outmatched, and in no position to defeat their opponents. The ruins-and somewhat intact-houses of a village formed the stage of their battle, the destroyed buildings still flaming in the clear blue sky.
The first thing Singed noticed was the noise. In the beginning, it was a steady, dizzying hum, like if one of those Zaun-developed rifles had just been fired at close range near your ears. He shook his head, eyes briefly closing as he tried to clear his mind from the nauseating screech. The stench of smoke began to waft over his nostrils, but he took no heed, having been desensitized to horrendous smells long ago.
"Sir...?"
A female voice spoke up next to him, prying for his attention yet clearly intimidated by his presence. Giving his head another shake-whoever it was could wait-he opened his eyes and beheld a woman, armored beyond recognition in the fashion of a Noxian Corporal. Her serrated spear was held nervously in her hands, a token of her proximity to him.
Singed chuckled darkly, looking down at the female officer.
"Yes, dear?"
The honorific was used mockingly, a clear attempt to discomfort and condescend the soldier. Judging by how she held back a flinch, it worked.
"N-Noxian High Command has just delivered their response to Commander Riven's request for reinforcements."
She gulped, clearly uncomfortable. Singed turned away from her in annoyance, dropping his attempts to further frighten her.
"This pertains to us how?"
The soldier bit her lip, and the next words flew out of her mouth in a flurry, as if she longed to say them at last and get if over with-or she could no longer bear to keep them to herself.
"T-they have ordered the entirety of the Coeur Valley-to be...to be melted, sir."
Singed overlooked the approaching battle, the two sides still not having quite clashed at this point, recalling that the Noxian forces below consisted entirely of Noxus' Fury Company of the 42nd standard regiment. He knew for a fact that reinforcements were not in any position to reach the beleagued Noxian armies within the next hour. The Ionians had them surrounded, anyway, though Singed's assigned unit was safe up on the overlooking mountain.
He turned to his left to overlook his prized melters. What might at first appear to be large wagons with a cannon mounted on the front were, in fact, a marvel of Zaunite ingenuity and Noxian warfare. Certainly, the wheels were primitive, but at least it didn't require an entire team of horses to transport it-it could be pulled by any good beast or two to where it needed. The machine itself was slightly larger than a horse, but was mostly light wood, with the only metal components being the launch apparatus-the barrel was loaded in from the back, the detonator was linked to all the active devices, and with the press of a button, the small pocket of gas was ignited, propelling the projectiles forward with incredible force. Upon reaching its target destination, they exploded, spreading their contents around the landing zone.
It was Singed's most prized invention, one of his few sources of pride besides himself and his concoctions.
The melters were an insurance, in case the Ionians overwhelmed the Noxians below and the former needed to be eradicated-the village boxed them in, preventing the enemy from escaping. A brilliant tactical decision by whoever was in charge to force the Ionians to where they could not escape. Of course, the soldiers below knew not that they had been there the whole time-a small battalon for the sake of transporting and protecting the melters.
But apparently the same tacticians had also chosen to be impatient. The Noxians had not yet been destroyed by the sudden influx of Ionian reinforcements. They would too be destroyed by this chemical assault, and if his many hypotheses were any conclusion, it wouldn't be pleasant.
The melters had already been readied, aiming down at the approaching soldiers. Singed carried the detonator in his hand. With one press of a button, soldiers of two nations would be scoured from the face of Valoran, and the land along with it.
His thumb hit the trigger.
A powerful whump could be heard as ten melters simultaneously fired their caskets on either side of him. The green barrels streaked through the air, spinning and leaving a filthy purplish trail in their wake. Both armies stopped their actions, looking up at the approaching projectiles-too shocked to fight, scream, or even run.
And then the first projectile hit.
Singed felt the stench of toxic, rancid air hit his nostrils as a green and purple explosion of acid and gas flew out from the targeted area. For a brief second, he could see the soldiers fly in every direction from the force of the explosion, some of them literally bursting as their insides liquified, their organs exploding from within. And then the smog settled in a cloud over the entire valley as the other explosions landed, their gases obstructing his view of the effects of his greatest poison.
But it didn't matter. He had seen enough. It was brilliant.
Slowly, as Singed overlooked the devastation below him, not even caring if he could no longer see the results, he began to laugh. His voice took on a low rumble of approving laughter, before rising into a dark, frightening cackle. He raises his arms to the sky, now purple with toxic gases, detonator in hand as he cast a terrifying silhouette before the destruction, and laughed his success at the Ionians, at the Noxians, at the whole world.
He had done it! Despite every obstacle, despite the silly, primitive politics of Noxus, he had done it! The perfect poison, the destroyer of armies, the weapon of the future bore HIS name! Massive armies would be rendered obsolete, and a future fueled by merely the threat of chemical warfare would come upon them.
It was perfect.
"Why do you want to join the League?"
Singed's laughter died in his mouth as the woman's voice from before came back to him. He turned, eyes narrowed, towards the soldier behind him. She spoke again, a cold, male voice echoing out from under her helmet.
"Why do you want to join the League?"
He wrinkled his nose, annoyed as he remembered where he was. He was no longer in northern Shon-Xan, Ionia, on the Noxian Campaign. The chemist was standing in the Institute of War. Though his surroundings still appeared to be Ionian, the world had begun to blur until it was only him, the woman, and a faded background.
"It's about far more than simply testing my alchemy, Summoner."
He waved his arms, gesturing to the fading scene around him.
"Treat me as you would a monster, mage. Call me amoral. Call me any number of names which have been spat at me over the years, most of which are correctly applied. But know that I am brilliant, and a brilliant scientist never forgets their duty to progress the world along. Your Fields of Justice are my new laboratory-and the launchpad of a new age of warfare."
The figure remains passive, droning out their next rehearsed line. The world around them has faded, and the exit shines in front of Singed, behind the Summoner in a soldier's clothing.
"And how does it feel, exposing your mind?"
Singed scoffs, stepping forward and grabbing the figure with his shield-hand and throwing him over his shoulder. The body flew in the air before landing with a thud behind him, dazed.
"I don't care what you think of my thoughts, as horrifying as I know they must seem to you. Do what you wish with the knowledge."
Without waiting for a response, Singed exited the Reflecting Chamber, moving quickly yet with confidence in himself, leaving the Summoner in the room behind him. He had experiments to run.
And of course, Singed is kind of a troll in-universe, too.
I tried to make him not cartoonishly evil. If I failed or succeeded, let me know.
Review please. I'll be doing more Judgements.