Please be constructive in your feedback. Suggestions on how to improve well- appreciated. Once again, this is my first fanfiction, please try to be nice too? :( (I'm not a native English speaker, so +1 internet cookies?) One more thing, I'm ashamed to admit that I know next to nothing of the actual lore, only obvious stuff, so feel free to point things out! I am, however, reading up on the lore to try and be as consistent as possible with the 'official' version. I will, however, UNLEASH MY IMAGINATION, as the site motto goes, HUEHUEHUE! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends, I'm just a white boy.
Chapter One: of blood- soaked earth.
It was an overcast day in the Summoners' Rift, occasional rain droplets rippled the surface of the shallow river that split the battlefield in two, diagonally. Golems hummed, wolves howled, while angered champions threw curses, insults and death threats at their adversaries via the inter- team telecom, a peculiar communication system that enabled champions, allied or opposed, to deliver messages telepathically to each other.
A light breeze blew, rustling the tall brush situated at the bank of the river, curtly revealing a flash of white- blonde hair. A low mutter sounded as the entity ducked out of sight once again. Fog of war hung in the air as peculiar, dwarfed, purple creatures wordlessly clashed with blue ones, viciously slamming, stabbing, throwing energy balls, and even shooting cannon balls at one another, until waves upon waves of these nameless, brainless minions ended up cold, mangled and trodden over, becoming one with the blood- soaked soil. The sounds that emanated from this wordless struggle were almost eerie- the banging of shields, the buzz of magic and the ripping of flesh most vile, yet not a single outcry of pain or emotion; a robotic cycle of battle followed by death, repeating itself over and over until any form of intervention took place, shifting the balance of the once perfect equilibrium in the lane. The sounds of battle were slightly muffled, but still more than audible to the man who was promptly tucked into the above- mentioned brush, now still and breathless and ready to pounce, swift calculations coursing through his head.
Vladimir slowly exhaled in annoyance, lazily bringing his gaze down to his pointed, shined mage boots that were slowly getting soaked in the river water. "Hmph." He really hoped that the ordeal would pay off in the end, he was missing out on vital minion kills after all. He patiently adjusted a detachable metal claw on his right index finger. A few more seconds passed, and in his slightest agitation, he scraped the side of his left index finger claw with the fine, dangerously sharp point of his right, creating grinding, continuous sparks. He clicked his tongue in satisfaction.
Stoically keeping himself concealed by the brush, Vladimir ran the fine points of his shiny, metal claws through his uniquely, almost weirdly upswept hair ( that came to a point) to somehow distract himself. To most, Vladimir was a 'creature', (as he somehow came to be known by), of cold, calculative demeanor out on the battlefield, albeit less so (but in the same niche) outside of it. He also had a pronounced, or rather 'refined' style, taste and composture ('refined' being the name given to it by certain females in the League), much to the dislike of the 'MANLIER' champions, who could not fathom how the sleazy gentleman attracted such a decent amount of attention and peaked curiosity, so rarely appearing in the League's social circles; be it Noxian, Piltvolterian, Zaunean, Ionian, or Demacian, he only seemed to make an appearance when needed. He did, nevertheless, have a solid surrounding of champions across the various factions that were willing to interract with him, if he gave it a thought; even a select few Demacians at this surprising time of peace between their state and Noxus.
Zooming out to his alternative Summoner's Rift vision, he observed the small, agile Teemo scampering about the middle lane, frantically slamming down his malicious mushrooms wherever they would do the most damage. Vladimir shuddered at his recollection of the numbing, prickling, burning sensations the mushrooms delivered when stepped on. Meanwhile, Mordekaiser was rolling mightily about the top lane, effortlessly suppressing and pushing the hostile Jax and Ashe out of lane with his devastating sonic booms and resonating strikes that cut and gashed them like metal shards, all this time sustained by Sona's healing noises from her etwahl. The couple had an interesting synergy, Vladimir noticed. The match so far went fairly well for Vladimir and his team- they have already ultimately defeated the enemy team in more than one team fight with little to no casualties (which wasn't a factor for Vladimir as long as he didn't get the short end of the stick), with him securing most kills on his team, much to the discontent and rage of Katarina. 'Lady Du Coteau' (Vladimir relished in watching her lips tighten in evident dislike at this title, bestowed by him every time they met at the fountain) so far managed to die the most on their team and not score a single kill, and in fact rightly blamed this on Vladimir. In bottom lane, he exploited her weak constitution and sustainability for the enemy Udyr and Xin Zhao to jump her, and ambushed the unsuspecting couple securing a seemingly free kill entirely on his own, to violently shred them with what most have grown accustomed to describe as 'twisted, questionable sorcery.' By this point in the match, he already racked up an impressive set of beneficial, temporary artifacts to empower his magic. Hell, he always laughed inwardly at the utter fear and panic that the adversaries' eyes betrayed whenever he lunged for a gruesome dispatch of either them or their teammate. Having stood idly for a whole minute in the damned brush, Vladimir started to doubt whether his calculations were right.
However, his plan suddenly sprang into motion as Xin Zhao, empowered by the essence of the Elder Lizard, accompanied by the lumbering Udyr, sprinted right past his hideout, quickly closing in on Katarina who was coming down the bottom lane, still adressing Vladimir, who was smirking to himself and blatantly ignoring her (in fact, he hadn't used communication once for the whole match). Caught distracted and completely off guard, Katarina ran right into a roaring Udyr, taking a massive fist to the face that snapped her head back and stunned her. Xin Zhao followed up with a three- point talon strike of his fearsome spear that left gaping, squirting punctures in her leather corset and bare abdomen, toppling her to the ground. Gathering up some grit, Katarina quickly recuperated, rolling out of Udyr's crushing stomp; catching her momentum, she blindly threw a blade with a sleight of her hand, still threshing on the ground, the blade embedding itself in Xin's neck with a wet sound as he staggered, choking. Leaping to her feet, she anticipated Udyr's reckless attack. Momentarily closing her eyes and concentrating, Katarina vanished milliseconds before Udyr's mighty fist collided with her lithe form, rematerializing behind him in an explosive burst of energy that visibly shook him as he grunted, dropping to one knee. However, preparing for a pinpoint thrust of her cutlass at Udyr's unprotected back, she felt cold, merciless steel enter her thigh from behind. Dropping to her knees and arching her back, Katarina screamed out in sheer agony as Xin Zhao pulled his spear out. Getting up on his feet, the massive Udyr laughed darkly, delivering a brutal overhead slam with both hands on her head. Sound of tendons snapping, Katarina was flat on the ground, covered in filth and grime, her wounds gushing deep crimson on the ground, now also bleeding amply from her nose and mouth. Annihilated, but still conscious, she caught a flash of scarlet robes as her eyelids flickered over her dulling emerald eyes. The tip of Xin's spear touched her heaving chest. "Your last word, Sinister Bl-"...
Ironically, little did he know it was time for his last words, as a wave of unnaturally potent nausea struck him, instantly bringing metallic- tasting vomit to his mouth, making him double over and convulse. "Haemo... m-", before Udyr could hear him out, Xin Zhao's armor violently tore off in places as thick, swirling torrents of his own blood burst forth from fresh, deep ruptures made by a seemingly invisible hand, swerving and levitating away from his twitching body as the announcer boomed "GODLIKE!". Partly dumbfounded by the swift turn of events, Udyr watched Xin Zhao's blueish spirit essence shoot skywards. Following the crimson liquid (that contained bits of flesh, bone and other body tissue) sailing through the air, Udyr's glowing green eyes locked on the Haemomancer standing mere steps away from him, a wicked grin plastered to his face. The most disturbing were his eyes, ablaze with a satanic red glow, so avidly contrasting that of Udyr's, overpowering its intensity.
The gore suspended in mid- air wove around Vladimir's arms that moved in a ritualistic rhythm, bladed fingers twitching zealously, like a spider spinning silk. Seeing him preparing to unleash another atrocious spell, fury boiled up in Udyr as he roared and swung his clenched, bulky fist at the disabled Katarina, seeing this as a last stand option- running from Vladimir would only provide the sadistic bastard game. Once again, his fist mere centimetres away from Katarina's solar plexus (her ribcage would undoubtedly snap inwards at the force), Udyr failed. A solid lump of twisting gore, aimed at his pelted torso, met him with such supernatural force that he was launched into the air, the taste of iron blocking and overwhelming his senses. Evaluating the situation on- spot with a sharp eye, Vladimir precipitated all the blood decorating the scene of strife, transmogrifying it into a pointed shard stemming from the spot perfectly under Udyr's inevitable landing. "LEGENDARY!" boomed simultaneously with a satisfying (to Vladimir) noise of ripping impalement, as Udyr drew a last, rasping breath, staring at the deep crimson, ice- like texture protruding from his holed chest, wide- eyed. "That which runs through you will run you through", muttered Vladimir his casual pun, releasing the blood that still lovingly encircled him to cascade to the ground.
Eyeing his deeds with a judging look, Vladimir walked to Katarina's shifting form in the bloodied grass, minions shuffling past him. The unholy glow in his irises slowly died down, they regained their compassionless, light- gray. Looming over Katarina, the smirk on his face dissipated, for a split second the sharp features of his face had a shadow of concern in them as he examined her condition. "Better stop moving, you have lost a substantial amount of lifeblood." Katarina, eyes slowly opening, shot him a venomous glare. "FUCK. Gah! Y-YOU! This... all this. Your fault! Not *cough* l-laning with you AGAIN." Fuming, she stared him down from her lying position. "DICK!", she spat, coughing up more blood. He gave her a piercing, condescending glance that, surprisingly for her, made her look away. Crouching, his elegant robe draping the scarred ground around him, he raised his unnerving hands over her struggling body. Almost instantly, healthy colour started to flood her blanched skin. He offered her a hand, her hateful gaze shifting between the unwelcoming, clawed hand and his emotionless face. Reluctantly, she took it, wincing in irritation at the painful, cutting grasp as Vladimir swiftly pulled her up off the soaked foliage, almost too vigorously for a magic- reliant champion. She looked at him questioningly as he put her arm around his shoulder, and the characterisitic azure beams of the 'Recall' spell encompassed them. "You are in no condition to fight," he commented, as if reading her mind. As they awaited extraction, Vladimir chuckled at the Enchanted Crystal Arrow sent by Ashe, soaring past the view distance of a conveniently placed word, flying completely off-target. Katarina said nothing, she just had no more fight left in her. Plus, she knew he made sense, as fucking always. "Prick" was all she could muster under her breath before they got swept up by the magical torrent.
Upon landing, she instantly wrenched her arm away, feeling better by the second as the healing magics of the sanctuary started working their wonder. However, before she could even sigh in relief, a shattering, crystalline explosion reverberated through the battleground, colouring the clouded sky on the other end of the battlefield a pale pink, marking their victory. Mere seconds later, the scenery abruptly changed in Vladimir's eyes, to that of an all- too familiar room with a high ceiling and cold, marble- lined walls, lit only by the faint, icy glow of the runes lining the five circular summoning platforms upon which (except for Sona who tended to float) the champions of the victorious team stood. It was over.
Coming down from the platforms, the champions briefly exchanged congratulations, Mordkaiser gave Vladimir a rather pulverizing pat on the shoulder, grumbling "Well played". Vladimir furrowed an eyebrow, "And rather tactless of the enemy team not to stack Magic Resistance, faced with a team of exclusively mages." To this Mordekaiser heaved his oversized Morningstar on his armored shoulder and hummed in agreement, striding out of the lobby. Teemo seemed eager to point something out, so Vladimir prompted him to it with a nod. "Eh... You know, Vlad. Um. Vladimir. You COULD communicate more with the team... Haha! It's not like your twelve kills and zero deaths are bad at all, but..." he squeaked, trying to play off his agitation with an unnatural grin. "I see your point of concern," Vladimir began in a low, silky tone. "I simply deemed it unnecessary with the presence of certain imbeciles overly- keen on the communication system, so eager to insult teammates and request the other team to leave notes of complaint about them." He eyed Katarina. Close to exhuming smoke like a choo-choo train, she tore through the distance between them and slapped Vladimir across the face with a force that echoed through the stone hallways of the Institute of War. Teemo mouthed a silent 'O' while Sona played a low note on her instrument. Vladimir, however, did not flinch. No, scrap that, he didn't even blink. This move was anticipated. A subtle smirk crept onto his lips. "NOT. In the MOOD. For your SMARTASS BULLSHIT!" she hollered in his face and stormed out, long ruby hair flailing in her wake. A puzzled Mundo stood scratching his head at the scene he observed through the open doorway, standing out in the hall.
Barely making noise on the stone floor, Vladimir glided out into the hallway, followed by Teemo scampering away to his yordle business and Sona floating past him, giving him a barely noticeable pat on the back. Mundo, staring dumbfounded at him, with those glowing yellow orbs, barked "If Mundo was Vladi, Mundo SMAAASH!" Vladmir curtly nodded and excused himself, walking down the white marble hallway with a destination in mind. Reminiscing for a second, Vladimir thought to himself, "Tastes much sweeter on the inside than on the outside. Oh, theatrics..." looking down at the smudge of caked blood on his one claw, the one that drew her blood when he heaved her up during the match. He smiled, slightly hastening his walk.
That's it, folks! Chapter Two is ready to be uploaded and lies in wait, but not until I get a single review from a non- anonymous lurker. :D