I felt like writing, so I wrote. Please review and tell me what you think. Just don't be too harsh with words please.
Scurrying footsteps led away from the bright streetlights that flooded the main road. Behind the patter of a single fading pair of footsteps, a dozen more pairs stampeded towards it. Turning a corner and jamming himself behind a large dumpster, the robed man held his breath as he waited for impending doom.
A few seconds later the first foot entered his vision. One tough-looking man wearing the blue of the Piltover Police Force rushed by. Holding his breath, he flattened himself as far into the corner of his hiding spot as he could and watched as even more able-bodied men charged past. Up ahead at the crossroad, the lead officer gestured for them to split up.
As soon as he was sure that they wouldn't spot him, he quietly picked himself up and half-crawled, half-ran back the way he came. He felt his mouth twist in a rabid smile. There would be no catching him today.
He'd done nothing wrong, of course. But he doubted that they'd see it that way. After all, it wouldn't be very proper for a Piltovian to try his hand at Necromancy. His eyes roamed around the little side-path he was in before doing a double-take.
In front of him lay a little alleyway, barely big enough for a man to squeeze into. In the back of his head, he wondered how both he and the police didn't notice this possible escape route. A raised voice coming from behind him made him stiffen up in shock.
With a startling speed, he snapped his head back and saw that half of the group were moving towards him with grim looks of determination on their faces. A white flash of fear filled him as he noticed how a few were hastily pulling out hextech pistols and tranquilizer guns from their holsters. Without a second thought, he dashed into the alleyway.
The alleyway was a clear area, his speed only hampered by its narrowness. Sneaking a glance behind him, he saw the muzzle of a gun aim straight ahead. Reacting quickly, he threw himself to the floor as a bolt of energy sailed past the place his head used to be.
"Stop, in the name of the law!" one of the guards yelled. The necromancer paid him no attention at all and rolled over before reaching into his grimy robes. Scrambling onto his feet, he found himself standing face to face with two burly police officers with stern looks on their faces.
Twisting away from a grapple, he pulled out his hand from within his robes and raised the tome into the air. A crooked smile on his face, he flipped through the book. Before the officers could attempt a second capture, the necromancer raised his hand and yellowed bones burst out from the ground, forming a makeshift barrier. Yelping, the officers jumped back. This momentary distraction was enough for the necromancer to shove the book back inside his robes and bolt further into the alleyway.
Angered cries and the occasional energy bolt came from behind him. He howled in pain as a stray bolt nicked his ear but didn't stop. Further, further, how long did this alleyway stretch? It felt like he'd been running for days.
Eventually, he could no longer hear the voices of the policemen. Slowing down, more from exhaustion rather than choice, he panted uncontrollably. His shaking legs gave out from underneath him and he was stuck kneeling with his upper body leaning to the side of the alleyway. A trembling hand inched towards his left ear and found nothing. His head lost the will to raise itself. He whimpered.
A heavy presence suddenly choked the air. The eerie atmosphere around him stood still, as if waiting for something to happe-
"Another wanderer lost in the dark?" a voice called from in front of him. His shaking stilled, his hand frozen on his head.
"Or a rabbit running from hunters?" growled a much more intimidating voice coming from the same direction. He refused to look up. Two voices. No escape. His other hand inched towards his robes.
Then came a command, "Look at us, unnatural being." He could feel the contempt in those words, even if the voice held no tone. Reluctantly, he raised his head. And screamed.
There was something wrong with the thing in front of him. Something terribly wrong. In front of him stood what appeared to be a bipedal goat with a mask on its head with a wolf wisp trailing slightly behind it in the air wearing a similar mask. But that wasn't what made him scream.
It was the aura of death that surrounded them that caused it. Being a necromancer, he was not unfamiliar with the presence of death. In fact, it was usually something intoxicating to breathe in. But never before had he encountered something so pure. So pure. Unnatural.
The wolf flew in front of his face, shining eyes staring into his own, "This one knows us. Yes, this will be a good chase." With bared fangs, he floated closer towards the necromancers head.
"Stop!" The necromancer found his voice just as the wolf started opening its mouth. The last dredges of his sanity implored him to pull out his tome and do something, anything to get that thing away from him. The goat-lamb monstrosity tilted its head.
"Stop?" the monster echoed. As if following a cue, the wolf backed up and growled at him again, "Stupid necromancer does not know he is prey. A hated prey to gnash, rip, and tear."
The necromancer was barely coherent. Pulling out his tome, he flew to his feet and held the book tightly across his chest as if it were a shield. He raised his hand with a curse on his lips and a barrier of bone separated him from those unsightly abominations.
Like a cannon, he exploded into action as soon as he stopped seeing a single trace of them. With his newfound energy, he sprinted into the other direction. It didn't matter that that way led back to the police officers, they weren't monsters. Wolf's laughter echoed throughout the alleyway as it bounced off the narrow walls.
"It is always a chase with the corpse-lovers! Run away! Faster!" The wolf's goading did the job, as his legs pumped as fast as they could. Animalistic instinct replaced most of the necromancer's thoughts and with a roar of desperation, he raced down the alleyway.
"You cannot run from Us," Blindly flinging a hand back and sending out a weak fireball behind him, he didn't stop. The sounds of a wolf gnashing its teeth felt as if it were only a hands-breadth behind him. He didn't stop. He saw a bone barrier and some police officers squeezing through a hole they made. He stopped.
"Save me!"
And then he felt teeth on his neck.
"Gaaah!"
The wolf tore through it, flesh ripped away with the flick of its head. Healthy skin was torn off, revealing the necrotic tissues underneath. His cloak went flying away in pieces. The officers stood transfixed by the sight, horrified and unable to look away. Eventually, bones flew and nothing was left but a pale heart covered in runes. With a disgusted snort, the wolf swallowed it.
The lead officer took a step back and everything descended into chaos. Each officer scrambled back through the hole and scattered into the streets with the frantic motions of madmen. Guns lay abandoned in the alleyway.
"We have not come for you. Only for the one who was meant to die. We shall meet another time."
A message was sent to the fleeing police officers, who only screamed louder once they heard it. And the Lamb was left, with the Wolf close by her side.
"All of them are resigning?" Caitlyn said in a resigned tone. This was the second time in two weeks that this happened. Privately, she worried about their mental health. The last batch of departing officers had two of them getting locked up in the Piltover Institute of Mental Health indefinitely.
The sergeant stoically nodded, "It was a necromancer this time, Sheriff."
Dismissing the sergeant with a wave of her hand, Caitlyn stared deeply at the contents of her teacup. If a few tea readers were here, she mused, they'd probably say something about misfortune striking shortly before a blessing.
It's been happening for three months now. First it was that wannabe-alchemist who spouted nonsense about discovering the secret to eternal life. After sending a few officers to take him in once they found out he was selling potions without a permit, he disappeared and the officers resigned. Then it was a mad tinker who placed his heart inside a machine. Then it was a necromancer trying to raise an army of undead to replace the police force. That was a particularly interesting week.
They all disappeared without a trace. And the officers refused to say anything about it. The most she'd gotten was from the insane ones, if one counted the repeated rambling of "Wolf! Wolf!" and "No teeth!" to be any kind of meaningful clue.
She sighed. If she had a wolf-themed vigilante in Piltover, then it was her job to bring them to justice. After she got through all the paperwork from the resignations. She quietly sipped her tea and contemplated letting Vi do it instead.