Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends, instead it is the property of Riot Games. If I did though, every champion except Graves would have a rule 63 skin just for the lulz.


Darkness and silence permeated the normally charged air of the Institute of War. Various champions and summoners that usually roamed the corridors, common areas or fought on the fields of justice during the day were either asleep in their respective chambers or still awake, awaiting the next battle. One such champion was Rengar, still asleep, wearing her armor and curled in a ball on top of, at first glance, a messy pile of straw. She soon awoke groggily from her slumber by the sound of a rumbling stomach, hers. The constant, echoing growl in the silent room being picked up by a twitch of sensitive feline ears seemed to rival the roar from her maw during the midst of battle.

A few moments later, a cerulean eye opened and drifted around her domain, relishing the souvenirs of skulls and horns from hunts past across Valoran as they adorned the dark stonewalls and tables. One souvenir, noticeable in the pitch black, even by human eyes was the small, alabaster colored horn from her first hunt; a rhino killed when she was, but a growing cub learning to hunt alongside her 'father' in the unforgiving wilds of the Kumungu Jungle. Those were the days she would fondly remember like now when she was older and alone, hunting regardless of conditions that often days consisted of: waiting, tracking, studying, and finally fighting in a brutal and sometimes very brief battle in her opinion. It did not matter if death was a possibility during such activities, for simply enjoying the pure, animistic thrill of hunting and the unspoken, but inherent law of the jungle amongst its denizens, 'survival of the fittest' was enough for her.

Afterwards she would return to her secluded stone den usually under the shadow of night, exhausted and covered in blood. Not hers, for the most part, yet head held high as she reveled in the afterglow of having fought and killed many opponents. Plus a skull or five mounted on posts around the den never hurt for decoration or marking territory...

Outside the thrill of hunting itself, she also had another reward for herself once every blue moon. One of the few things that made her relax and became as docile as a newborn kit, milk. Her father often warned that too much indulgence in a reward could lead to complacence and ultimately death as a hunter so when she joined the league she became abstinent from milk, a secret kept by her and her alone, but sometimes the mere thought of the rich and intoxicating nectar on her tongue drove her into a state of primal euphoria. Her stomach growled again, louder this time and jolted her out of the past, a hand instinctively moving to grip the hilt of her blade hidden in the straw. As time seemed to stand still, the darkness, a long conquered fear of hers now acted as a deadly shroud over her body and intentions to any possible trespassers, her eye now directed at the door.

Eventually the soft crunch and rustle of her makeshift bed sounded as she sat up slowly, releasing the handle and shifting her weight forward as if to pounce out of a bush on Summoner's Rift. A few moments passed before she stood to her full height of six feet, placed her hands-on her hips and opened the other eye covered by a strap that wrapped around her head with an eye shaped opening. A glowing, golden iris-less orb blinked to life that was suspected to be of a magical or artificial nature that summoners and champions made small talk over when they thought she was out of hearing distance. It was again, one of the few secrets which Rengar withheld its true nature; no one would ever get close enough anyway to examine let alone touch and she planned to keep it that way.

Checking and rechecking her surroundings out of habit in case something was unseen, she finally relaxed, coming up with nothing and took a few steps forward onto the specially requested grass floor. A stretch routinely marked the start of each day as she listened intently to the pop of joints and smirked at the ripple of toned muscles, approving the self examination of her body, a reflection of the Pridestalker's immense pride and power. The well-endowed and feminine curves of her frame was apparent under the cream colored turfs of fur, braids and metal plates over her chest, legs, shoulders and pelvic region held together by thick, stitched leather bands and belts that served as armor caused many a summoner and champion alike to sneak envious, awed or even lustful glances at her when passing. Flashes of fear though, became evident in their expressions when she glanced back lazily in a silent taunt or tease. The swift aversion of their gazes, the low hum of whispers, the sweet scent of sweat mixed with pheromones and the subtly increase in heartbeats always caused to her chuckle inwardly. No matter how much they tried to hide it; they knew she studied them as much as they studied her if not more, nothing escaping her observations.

As she stood up once more, done with stretching; she let out a lengthy held yawn. A throaty sound between a growl and a purr lingering in the air. At times like this, she was glad for the fact that her room was sound proof by magic as found out through one incident involving the one personally termed by her as 'beast' or 'lesser creature'. After the first deadly encounter in the jungle and now subsequent, almost daily encounters on the field and institute between 'her' and multiple creatures of strange origins; she was often left physically and mentally drained. Not that she was complaining; of course Rengar relished the constant battles with the first one that managed to: steal her eye, break her will and most of the bones in her body; abet for a short time before she recovered and made a vow to herself to find more monstrous and powerful creatures to satisfy her 'hunter's libido' as summoners often joked that joined her via mental link in battle.

But for now, she simply stood alone in her chambers, pacing back and forth like a caged animal while trying to 'scratch' the 'itch' for milk with memories of past hunts, but failing horribly. Her tail switched back and forth with her, the metal ring spikes on the end brushing against the grass. Those walking by the sight of a pacing, agitated Rengar in the halls or in general usually left her alone. It was never good to interrupt her thoughts because usually it ended in a deadly glaring match against a six foot tall muscular lyger with the ability to gut the offender(s) with her claws like whatever species Nami was in a few hopefully short seconds or dreadfully long minutes. A quick consensus by the majority strongly agreed that was not a good way to die, the second being sat on by Gragas after enchilada night. Stopping suddenly in her tracks, an idea was formed, she decided: why not in a proverbial sense, 'kill two birds with one stone' or in other words satisfy both her eagerness to hunt and her craving for milk by going into the institute's cafeteria. But that's where the train of thought stopped and a nagging twinge of uncertainty dug its way into the edges of her mind.

She never did anything like this before since there was hardly reason to be in the cafeteria excluding breakfast, a quick lunch then dinner while fighting, training and sleep took up the rest of her time. Also, the cafeteria along with the rest of the institute, minus the training rooms forbid: fighting, usage of magic, weapons and abilities other than ones absolutely needed to live were strictly prohibited except in a time of emergency.

A past incident came to mind where Nasus and Renekton fought over the last chocolate eclair towards the end of a dinner rush in which everyone there learned something: never attempt to stop a food claim or get between a powerful, larger than life jackal and a crocodile unless you want to be 'siphoning striked' repeatedly over the head with a staff or 'sliced and diced' into pieces... as Zac learned the hard way.

But now the desire to hunt and acquire her prize while testing her skills in the undisturbed atmosphere of the institute was too much to pass up. She would never get another chance like this for say, the next 24 hours and it clawed at her being like Warwick's Infinite Duress. A particularly loud, squelching growl from her stomach this time settled her internal debate and she sighed, tracing her fingers over the firm, but quivering muscle.

A few moments of preparation and she resolved that it should only take 15 minutes at best, half an hour at worse. Just enough time to sneak past all the wings between her and the cafeteria, fill her stomach faster than Cho'gath and Kog'maw at the buffet area and sneak all the way back. If she was caught; she could simply neutralize the threat. No harder than walking behind Lee Sin on the battlefield or anyone for that matter when in stealth she reasoned. Walking to the door, she slid it open slowly and glimpsed both ways; the torches on the walls glowing dimly with an eerie blue fire, making the shadows stretch on and flicker through a seemingly endless corridor sparsely covered with doors. As she smirked mostly in anticipation, her eyes and fangs glinted in the torchlight while her bone tooth necklace swung back and forth from her movements. A few seconds passed before she turned invisible and soundlessly stepped out, closing the door with her tail. A husky, barely audible whisper echoed in the darkness as she made her way towards the cafeteria...

"Tonight we hunt."


AN: My first fanfic based on the picture used as the icon. It really just came as a random stream of ideas and hopefully it was good enough to warrant a review or two of criticism besides my own. I am currently in need of a beta reader if I do decide to continue with this fic let alone write since I'm really writing out of curiosity and to rid my mind of random images... really my mind is and should be treated like a abyss of dark and frightening ideas. :P