Author's Note: Updated with more paragraph breaks to enhance readability as of 7/12/14, thanks to son of Zebedee.

There was little time left. The man dragged his broken leg along the dirt as he liped, adrenaline propelling his broken body. As he passed the entrance to the small village, he desperately fumbled for his knife, pulling it out of the sheath with shaky hands. With frantic, stabbing motions, he carved new words into the sign. "Welcome To Kalamanda-City of LEAVE NOW"

As he made the last stroke, he breathed a sigh of relief. Now, at least, travelers would be warned. This was, of course, a futile gesture. Kalamanda was burning. The lucky parts. The parts of the ruined city that were not set aflame were covered in an eerie violet glow, clearly otherworldly, but not entirely unfamiliar. But none of this concerned the broken man in front of the sign. His final mission complete, he raised the knife, weakly holding it to his throat. As the adrenaline began to fade, he gripped it with the last of his strength and prepared to slit his own throat.

At last. He would not die on their terms.

But as he pulled his hands quickly across his neck, he felt nothing. The knife, suspended by an ethereal force, rose into the air and shattered, the metal blade scattering uselessly to the wind. "No.." The man shook, equal parts enraged and upset.

The metallic clangs of bootsteps behind him barely shook him out of his stupor as he stared up at the approaching figure. "Pitiful." The voice was deep and cold, echoing as if it came from a metal room. "You would throw your life away, rather than serve the new masters of Valoran?" The man shrunk away as he recognized the armored figure, his enormous mace gleaming with the reflection of the flames. "You would even make a useless corpse." With a swing of his mighty weapon, Mordekaiser crushed his victim effortlessly.

With a flash of violet light, a portal opened behind him. A small Void beast ran out, babbling in it's strange tongue, and began to gnaw at the corpse, followed by two men. The first, cloaked in a purple hood and floating several inches off of the ground, spoke. "Kalamanda has fallen. Your harvest will be provided, Mordekaiser. The desolation south of the windmill is yours. Tell your compatriots that their...activities should remain confined to that sector."

The metal man chortled. "I will play by your rules, Malzahar. Fear not." With a creak of metal, he turned to face the second figure. "I trust you agree, Grand General?"

"But of course," rasped the man, hobbling forward on his cane. "Kalamanda will make for a fine Noxian city. It is a prize I have been...coveting." The crow perched on his shoulder made a loud cry as he turned. "Take defensive positions. The retaliatory strike should arrive in a matter of hours, four if they departed as soon as news of the attack broke, six if they only knew when they saw the rising smoke. You both have a chance to increase your prizes. Good hunting, my allies." Leaving the burning town in his wake, Grand General Swain strode off into the distance, leaving the bloodied battlefield behind him.

One Week Earlier