Don't stop.

Two words echoed silently on her lips with every step the girl took. She chanted them over and over again in her mind, each syllable almost perfectly syncopated against the heavy breathing that had her chest heaving and heart pounding.

Don't you dare stop…

The damp, uneven cobblestones paving the corridor slapped against her naked feet with every stride, soles rubbed raw and red from a lifetime spent simply surviving long enough to see another moonless Noxian night. Her fingers too, slender and lithe as they were, now pawed at the walls in an attempt to keep her upright and moving whenever a knee buckled or a loose stone caught her toes. Such was life in this great city-state. Power was all that mattered here and even though under the law all were created equal, some were clearly more equal than others.

Keep moving Riven. Don't stop.

The girl shot a sidelong glance across her shoulder as she rounded another corner. She could hear the voices behind her growing louder with every passing moment; they were gaining on her now… it would only be a matter of time before they closed in. Suddenly her vision was sent skyward, eyes growing wide as her foot caught on a jagged stone jutting out from the floor. A stifled cry escaped her lips as she hit the ground with an audible thud, silvery-white tresses flailing every which way. For a moment Riven simply lay there unmoving, tasting a mixture of dirt and blood on her lips when she struggled to find her breath once more. Her crimson-flecked eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness as she silently fought back tears of frustration. No, she wasn't going to cry. If this really was the end at least she wasn't going to give those bastards that kind of satisfaction.

"Well, well, well…" The first of her pursuers had already caught up now, hands on his knees while leaning forward to catch his own breath. "Bitch sure can run, can't she?" The jeering had already started. Riven inhaled sharply and clenched her jaw as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, legs drawn in so she could backpedal to the corner. Her ankle was throbbing and a thin line of red had formed across the top where the rock had gashed her under the shin.

"M-more than I can say for you," she spat venomously, apparently finding her courage once more. One lowlife punk had now become three however, each with an equally repulsive sneer plastered across his otherwise unremarkable face. The shadows hid their features in such a way that only three sets of leering teeth were really visible, glinting like hungry wolves in whatever pale light managed to streak through from above. "If it's gold you want… you already know I have none." Slowly her right hand began to search among the rubbish for something – anything – she could use as a weapon.

"Hear that boys?" A fourth figure had appeared behind the others, larger than the rest. Riven's heart sank and she swallowed hard; his face she'd never be able to forget. Eye sockets were sunken in like that of a corpse, pale skin stretched to its limits about a lascivious, toothy grin. His neck (if it still qualified as one) was thicker than her waist, bare upper torso bulky and riddled with jagged, pock-like scars. His name was Arnath, leader of a local street gang and one notoriously cruel bastard. "S'pose this is our lucky day then." The tree trunk of a man pushed his way forward, hand resting on the butt of a rather menacing machete strapped to the front of his belt. "We ain't out for gold tonight." Arnath's tongue snaked out from between his teeth and slid very slowly, very deliberately, across his lower lip.

Riven had suddenly became very aware of their gazes now, their palpable stares sizing her up and down like a piece of meat. Vulnerability had laced its way into her nerves, her cheeks flushing slightly as she drew one arm across her chest to cover the rather obvious tatters in her cotton top. She cursed under her breath as her heavily lidded eyes fell away, searching for something else to latch onto. When she was younger it had been easier. Her boyish features, the short silvery hair and tanned skin, even the way she dressed had allowed her to slip under the radar for the most part. But then puberty struck and curves began to form in places where none had previously existed. Her features had softened so much. They were angular yet feminine now, like her small mouth framed by sparkling eyes. Thick lashes and ruby-like irises… she was nothing if not pretty. An utter magnet for trouble.

"I'm warning you," she whispered hoarsely as her narrowed gaze met the men once more. Riven's slender fingers had found something in the dirt to collapse upon, the rusted end of a large metal rod buried beneath debris. She balled her fist about it. The heaviness of the object felt comforting in her grasp, almost familiar. "Don't come any closer. Or-"

"Or what?" Arnath gnashed through clenched teeth before lashing out suddenly, clamping a hand over her mouth and pressing the back of her head into the wall. Riven's vision went blurry for a second, her breath caught midway in her throat. "You thought you could just leave? We took you in. Made you what you are." The man's fingers were like a vise around her face; she could feel his nails digging into her skin, his palm threatening to crush her skull should he hold on any longer. Through a haze of pain Riven shut her eyes and tightened her grip about the rod. And then she swung at him, as hard as she possibly could.

A swing… and a hit.

Arnath howled and recoiled from the sudden strike, relinquishing his grip on her and moving to clutch his own face instead. Riven immediately took to a fit of coughing as she slid back down the wall and crumpled to the floor. "Hot… damn," Arnath cursed as he clutched his ear, blood welling up freely from between his fingers. He cursed again, gritting his teeth and flailing about angrily for a few moments. One of the other gang members began to laugh nervously, to which Arnath responded by punching him square in the gut. "Big mistake," a growl escaped his lips as he glared daggers at Riven's bruised and battered form beneath him. He took his time closing in on her, reaching down to unhook the machete from his belt.

One second he was towering above her, black knife glimmering ominously against the shadowy twilight. And then she blinked, and he was gone. Vanished. Arnath's body had seemingly collapsed in on itself with the most gruesome of bone-shattering crunches, replaced instead by a crouching silhouette that had descended upon them from somewhere above. Still cradling her cheek Riven struggled to focus on the shadowy figure before her.

His boots were the first thing to take shape, heavy black leather with the laces unkempt. A heavy tread had landed squarely atop Arnath's face, flattening it into the cobblestones and leaving behind only a spreading pool of murky blood and ichor in its wake. Riven's gaze lingered there for a few moments, almost too shocked to turn anywhere else, before sweeping up along this newcomer's frame. He wasn't as big as he had seemed at first… tall yes, but perhaps just a bit on the scrawny side. In that full crouch he had landed in though, his tattered trousers did little to hide the sheer power driving his legs into the pavement. He had, after all, just trampled a man roughly three times his size in one shot. The young man wore a faded purple hoodie drawn up loosely over his head, the fabric casting a shadow over most of his face. His left arm was bent to absorb some of the impact of the landing, palm flush against the floor, while the right was swept back and to the side. Her eyes lingered down this arm's exposed bicep, across the sinews in its forearm… and that was when she would notice it for the first time.

A wicked curved blade, jagged and heavily serrated, blossoming over his wrist like the talon of some deadly bird of prey.