There is a war fought on every street of Noxus. It has raged since the society formed itself, from the rows of tents that the nomads of the region settled in, to the wretched streets of the city's modern form. It is a conflict more elemental than man, far more familiar to the natural world, but expressed through man nonetheless: It is a war amongst animals, fought for territory. Lions fight with teeth and claws, rams and stags fight with the horns on their head, but men fight with something entirely unique in the animal kingdom: Men fight with tools.

A man's tools can take many forms. Bones shaped into clubs, rocks carved into arrowheads, these are the fundamentals of man's ingenuity, but there exist far more. A deed of property, a badge of honor, a book, a cloak, a word, an idea, all of these are expressions of the same violent intent, the primal need of all animals to secure their territory from their predators, albeit interpreted through a more esoteric lens.

In Noxus, this war is celebrated. It is taken as man's great destiny to fight, to struggle, and for the conflicts between men to breed the strongest men. This ideal lends itself to unpredictability. For when the whole society is constantly at war with itself, a champion can come from anywhere. From the halls of great noble houses... To a bar in the midst of Noxus Prime's most violent district.

Thumpthumpthump

An urgent wrapping of knuckles against his front door sent Jasper springing from his chair. He landed on his feet and darted across the room.

Thumpthumpthump

"Shappa!"

Jasper flung the door open, letting in a gust of the night's wintery air, followed by a shrouded figure: A short, dark-haired woman with olive skin and strong shoulders. On these shoulders she carrier a bag, laid upon her like an ox's yoke. She shrugged it off and cried, "Zah! Chose Zah!"

Jasper closed the door and bolted it. The woman sighed; she knew the bolt would yield little security. Jasper read her expression and drew near.

"Bev, were you followed?"

She nodded. Bev shook, but not from the cold.

Bev perceived a tiny movement out of the corner of her eye. Immediately she lowered herself and threw her coat to the floor. A cutlass flashed from her hip, and she menaced the corner of the bar, where a small shadow peaked out.

"Who?!" She commanded. The limitations on her syllables did not deminish her ability to assert her voice.

Jasper stomped around his bar and tugged the shadow from its hiding spot. Jasper barked, "Get out from there Boy! Before Bev skewers you! You go upstairs and hide! This is not a night to be sneaking around."

The Boy was an orphan, an urchin Jasper had picked up out of charity. The Boy had no name, but he was quick with his hands and had no qualms sitting quietly or being told what to do. Jasper had not yet decided what to make of the child, but he and Bev could never bring themselves to leave him out in the cold.

"Boh, hibe," Bev said. Her face betrayed her fear, but she controlled her tone more than Jasper had been able to, "Hibe."

Bev was a veteran of many battles, but never a soldier. Noxus had many "leaders", all grasping and scrounging to be top dog, first of the street they lived on, then of their district, and someday, they imagined, the whole empire. Bev fought on the streets, in crowded apartment complexes and between rooftops, a courier for drug dealers, privateers, and self-proclaimed "law enforcement".

It's professional courtesy not to take a hired blade's former allegiances too seriously- they certainly didn't, and everyone needs work. One of Bev's former employers lacked this courtesy however. Fearing she would sell valuable information about their movements, they had her tongue cut out. She, like many of those in her district, was illiterate, leaving her speech limited to crude, hollow sounds.

The Boy nodded and scurried away.

Jasper hopped over his bar and unhinged his crossbow from the wall behind it. He kept it there for posterity, for unlike Bev, Jasper hadn't fought in many battles, but he was a soldier. He was too old to fight properly though, and the scant combat he had experienced had impressed upon him a very un-Noxian desire to avoid violence where he could. But owning a business in Noxus meant that violence was never far from knocking on his door.

And that's exactly what it did.

Knock-knock, knock-knock

The noises were light and playful, and made Bev cringe. He had found them, and there was no keeping him out now.

"Jasper, Bev, all is forgiven my darlings! Just open the door and let's talk!"

A voice like a choir boy filled the room even through the closed door. Bev's knuckles whitened against her cutlass. She picked her bag up from the floor and backed up from the door, sitting at the bar.

Jasper raised his crossbow and called to the door, "Come on in, Mouse!"

And thus, Mouse entered. As Bev predicted the deadbolt did not hinder him. Two transluscent pink fingers invaded the keyhole and the lock was magically undone. This particular kind of magic was Mouse's speciality; the moment the door opened his eyes were inside Bev and Jasper's skulls. A lock, a thought, a chest cavity, it was all the same to a torturer like Mouse. He smiled as he wrapped his his mind around the atmosphere of the room.

"Having a rough night, are we Jasper?"

He did not acknowledge Bev. Mouse could feel her hatred bubbling like a cauldron, but spurned her by dismissing it. He sat at the bar, right beside her, yet paying her no mind.

Jasper asked, "What do you want, Mouse?"

"Hmm... What do you have on tap?"

"You know what I mean. Why are you here?"

"Nonono, Jasper, let's not get to business yet! You're a bartender aren't you? Then tend the bar! Let's have a drink, shall we? Do you have any brandy?"

Mouse's stare sent a tickling sensation through Jasper's arms, and his elbows began to shake under the weight of his crossbow. He strained against the trigger, meaning to send a bolt right through Mouse's face, but his fingers wouldn't let him. The moment he opened the door, Mouse had taken Jasper's killer instinct away, leaving him helpless.

Jasper sighed and set the crossbow down. Bev grimaced, holding on to her cutlass for dear life. A vein in her forehead bulged, and for a moment Jasper thought he might've seen Mouse's focus waver, but Bev's hand wavered first and the blade fell to the floor. Mouse kicked it aside, betraying a concern for Bev's wrath that he was trying his best to hide.

With hands shaking both from fear and Mouse's spell, Jasper poured three glasses of his worst brandy. Mouse watched the whole time, his smile slowly returning.

"I've gotta hand it to your courier, she's a rare sort. Eight months without getting caught? Snake has eyes all over the streets. She must use the rooftops, am I right?"

Mouse finally turned to Bev. Jasper pushed a glass of brandy over to Mouse. Mouse reached over it and took Jasper's glass out from under him. Bev said nothing.

"Yeah, I'm right," the youthful glee in Mouse's tone suddenly dropped away, and without any pretension for civility he downed the brandy and rasped, "I know I'm right because I saw you. What were you hauling up there? Bread? Cheese?"

Jasper sighed. A pit was forming in his stomach as Mouse's stare became more intense. "Aren't we allowed to eat without your say-so? It's just food."

"Whatever. It belongs to Snake. Everything in this part of town belongs to Snake. You want to own your little bar, old man? Fine. But put a leash on your bitch, because transporting goods without paying a tithe is against the rules."

"What rules?!" Jasper hissed. He knew it was a pointless objection, but an instinct had taken over him, a certain heat in his blood that could only be attributed to his Noxian heritage. He despised the power Mouse asserted, and without thinking consciously he yearned to lash out.

Mouse could not read these non-verbal instincts from Jasper's mind, but he didn't need to. They etched bitterness into Jasper's face and sent venom through his eyes. Mouse tossed his glass against the far wall of the bar and met Jasper's stare.

"You better fix that look, Jasper. You better fix up that shitty look you're giving me, or you won't like what comes next."

Jasper thought about backing down. He thought about how he and Bev might suffer if he didn't swallow his pride and hand over the food Bev was smuggling. It would be even worse for the Boy; Noxian practice wasn't to enslave conquered children, but to raise them as one's own. Something animal in Jasper's guts was offended by that idea. But it did not offend Jasper such that he decided to back down- no, rather it offended Jasper such that he reached across the table, took Mouse's brandy out from under him, drank it, and said, "I bet you'll like it a lot less if you don't get the fuck out of my bar."

Mouse's face contorted at the insult. With a hateful cry he sent a migraine into Jasper and Bev's heads, then picked up Bev's brandy glass and smashed it against Jasper's skull.

"You asked for this Jasper! You had your chance!"

As Bev reeled from the surge of psychic pain, Mouse took her by the hair. He threw a weak, wild punch into her nose. She grimaced and returned it ten times as hard, right in his stomach. The young man doubled over, and Bev took the opportunity to bolt away, searching for the cutlass Mouse had disarmed her of.

Mouse summoned his translucent little fingers again, casting them like darts at Bev's ankle. Before she could register their presence Mouse tugged her off-balance, sending her face-first into the floor. Mouse pulled her in expecting to fondle an unconscious body, but the moment she got close Bev delivered a kick to his face. With a growl Mouse sent his magic spiraling up her body like living string, constricting around her arms and legs. When she was fully bound Mouse mounted her.

"You've done it now bitch," Mouse rasped, "You wanna die like a man? I'll take that from you. But Snake is gonna take so much more."
Mouse took her face in his hands. The pink strings of magic coiled up Bev's neck and began to worm their way towards her eyes. Mouse's expression lit up with glee as the pain of terror began to enter into Bev's face.

"That's right! That's right!" Mouse screamed over and over again, "That's right!" until suddenly, just as his tendrils began to peel Bev's eyelids open: "That's r-"

Bev's cutlass pierced Mouse's throat. It entered through the back of his neck and exited through his mouth, sending a waterfall of blood down onto Bev's face. She winced and jerked at the revolting deluge that showered her, but at the same time relaxed as Mouse's magical bindings unfurled. Bev shoved Mouse's corpse off of her, and she was free.

Bev stood up and assessed the situation: Jasper was unconscious behind the bar. Mouse was dead, attacked from behind. Bev whiped the blood from her face and looked around, confused, scared, and uncertain as to who her savior could possibly be. But when she looked down, she found it was rather obvious who it was.

"Boh," Bev said with a shudder. The Boy stood over Mouse's dead body. His heavy sack-cloth shirt was soaked in blood. Most disturbing of all, however, were the Boy's eyes: Aware, yet cold, unwaveringly certain in his actions.

"Boh, ah'm fow- fowweh. Ah'm fowwy" Bev shook in frustration. She wanted to apologize, but could not even form the proper words. She blinked away tears and tried to look proud of him for summoning the courage to do what he did; the Boy was Noxian, and killing was in his blood. That did not ease Bev's heart though. His eyes were still wide, and his frame small enough to blow away in the wind. Bev could not express how profane it was for these things to be stained with blood. So instead she kept silent, and hugged the nameless orphan who saved her life.