A Tale of Misfortune
The Guardian's Sea was always rough. Spanning thousands of miles, separating Ionia and Bilgewater, contained on Blue Flame Island, from the mainland of Valoran. No-one dared cross the main body of the sea on their boats, they would sail directly from the Islands to the nearest coast of Valoran. They would then either dock and go across the land, or sail up the coast to their destination. All but one boat, however. A huge ship, with a multitude of billowing sails, and a marvelous carved head piece on the bow, depicting the glorious head of a majestic lion. Twelve cannons lined each side of the ship, and the deck was littered with pirates, lowering the main sail as the ship hurtled across the wave-ridden sea. With Blue Flame Island behind it, the ship seemed to glide across the water, which was flat and a deep blue for miles, all the way to the horizon. The entirety of the ship's stern was taken up by an extravagant, almost over-exaggerated cabin, with large black double-doors, littered with red love-hearts.
Inside was an equally extravagant desk, and in the chair behind it sat a female, leaning back with her feet resting up on the desk, crossed over. Sarah Fortune. She had a pair of thick black boots on, with ridiculous heels, that made it look impossible to walk. Her flared trousers clung to her legs and her ample bum, the leather tightly bound to her skin. Where the hemline of her trousers ended, her pasty white skin was left exposed, midriff completely on show. She wore a tiny white blouse that was barely more than a bra, barely even covering the bra she wore underneath. The straps on the bra she had on had slid down her arms and rested halfway between her elbow and shoulder. This left her more-than-large breasts practically bursting out of the material. Waves and waves of beautiful, curly red hair flowed from the top of her head, all the way down to just above her butt, her eyes a gorgeous shade of blue. Her hat was idly tossed on a chair on the corner of the room, and her eyes were gently shut as she was leaning back in her chair. The boat was clearly headed towards Piltover.
Meanwhile in Piltover, another figure was sat behind a desk, with their feet up resting on the surface, dozing in and out of what seemed like a daydream. This one was a male. His attire somewhat simpler, he merely had a pair of black tabis, a one piece black overall, and a black, hooded cloak. His face was obscured by the shadow cast by the hood on the cloak. Concealed up the sleeve of his right arm was a hidden blade, which was hilted and held in position expertly by his hand. He sat there, patiently waiting. He was evidently still in complete control, the daydream merely a distraction to pass the time. Before too long, the door clicked open, and in staggered a slightly intoxicated man, accompanied by what seemed like two strippers, or maybe even whores. The man was in an expensive looking suit, with his tie loosened and the top few buttons undone, a female on each arm. It took him a few seconds to register the cloaked figure at his desk. His eyes looked over him for a second, before he froze, the females looking at him in shock.
"Oh shit!" the man gasped, exasperatedly, before the cloaked figure's eyes bolted open, his pupils fixed on the suited-man. With the swiftness of a lightning strike, the cloaked figure let the blade slip out from his sleeve and into his hand, and in one motion he threw the knife in between the other mans eyes. He instantly dropped dead. The moonlight hit his face, barely illuminating his blue eyes. He stood up, glaring at the two whores who were simply stood there in shock, and pointed at them menacingly, as if to tell them that they saw nothing. He darted to the open window and jumped straight out into the night.
It was the dead of night, perfect for concealing himself in the shadows. He darted down the alleyways, moving away from the City Centre, eventually coming to the waterfront. The beach was perfectly white, and the sand lay almost flat. Stairs led up from the beach to a tiled row of restaurants and cafés that stretched for a mile. He walked to the edge of the tiles, and hopped over the wall, dropping down about 10 feet on to the beach. It would have been pitch black, but for the moonlight radiating down from a bigger than usual full moon, it being reflected brilliantly from the pure white sand. He walked straight down the middle of the beach, stopping just before where the tide wet the sand. Taking a seat, he simply gazed out to the calm sea. He tugged his hood down, it gently falling to his back. His icy-blue eyes now fully in view, below a side-swept fringe of firey hair. The giant mechanical clock on one of the skyscrapers behind him signaled that it had just turned 1am. He always seemed to end up here after a killing. He loved the tranquility, it calmed him. Originally, he was born and raised in Ionia, when he was a young boy he was inducted into a school to train him in the arts of a ninja. However, the Ionian traditions and values or honour, order and balance seemed all but lost on him, and he was eventually banished at the age of 17. He displayed more than a handful of unfavourable qualities, fierce competitiveness, underhanded dueling techniques, and most worryingly, a horrifying bloodlust. He was more than happy to slit throats, conceal weaponry, and stab people from behind. He found himself on the streets of Ionia, eventually finding himself as an inductee in the Order of Shadows, headed by the mysterious Zed. Zed took a shining to the young apprentice, giving him the simple moniker 'C'. He trained him personally, almost to the level of his equal. C was a ruthless killer, but at his core, he enjoyed peace and tranquility, hence his travels to the seafront after each killing.
He gazed out over the bay, leading out to the sea, past the docks to his right. In the middle of the night, the sea was always calm. Much to his surprise, a ship was coming in to the bay, headed towards the dock. C was intrigued, ships never came in at this time, it must be an unauthorised arrival. C quickly got himself up, pulling his hood over his head once more, sprinting swiftly across the beach, to the foot of the dock, just as the ship dropped anchor.
"Must be pirates..." he muttered to himself under his breath. He had had dealings with Pirates before, he would generally wait for them to disembark from their ship, and then loot sizeable sums of gold from the coffers.
"Another easy payday, I must be getting lucky..." he breathed.
Waiting for twenty minutes, eventually there was a rabble of voices, and the crew disembarked from the ship heading to the City. All apart from one. But C wasn't to know this. He leapt up on to the dock, near the stern of the ship, and scaled the back of the cabin where Sarah Fortune had earlier resided. He hit the top of the cabin, walked to the front of it, and dropped down on to the deck, looking around. He turned around, noting the door with, what seemed to him, to be peculiar hearts covering it. He scowled slightly, finding it to be rather tacky. He pressed his back up against the wall, and slid along, peering through the window into the cabin. Sarah was in bed, fast asleep on her side, facing the wall. An empty bottle of wine was on her desk, another rolling on the floor.
'She'll be no trouble', C thought to himself, walking on to the middle of the deck. He found an open hatch, and dropped down on to the first level of the ship. Jackpot immediately. He looked straight ahead into a large room, through the open door. Treasure chests filled to the lid with gold coins lined the back wall of the room, more money than C could ever hope to carry out by himself. He'd have to think about this one some more. He span around, and climbed the ladder back up to the main deck.
He moved back towards the cabin at the rear of the ship, thinking that there would be at least something of value in there. The only problem was Sarah sleeping in the bed, inside the very cabin. C could reason however, that it seemed like she'd drank two bottles of wine, and was likely out for the count. He pushed one of the doors open, surprisingly non-creaky, and slipped inside. He couldn't see much, only what was illuminated by the glow of the moonlight through the windows, which was the desk and Sarah's naked figure covered by a sheet. He carefully moved across the room to her desk, seeing her two pistols, 'Shock' and 'Awe', lined up on the surface.
'Sure, why not.' he thought to himself. Firearms, particularly antiques, usually sold for a few bits of gold on the market. He picked them up and stored them on the inside of his cloak, beginning to look around again. He began to move towards one of the walls, where a glass cabinet was situated. Unfortunately for him, the lack of light let him down, and his foot became caught on the stray frilly thong that Sarah had undoubtably thrown on the floor earlier when getting into bed. He stumbled slightly, the tremor caused on the floor toppled the empty bottle of wine from the desk, smashing on the floor. C didn't curse, simply sighed and closed his eyes. Things were about to get more interesting. He heard the groggy moan of a female from the other side of the room, stirring from being woken up, and turned to face the direction of the noise.
"Huhh? W-what?" Sarah mumbled, half asleep still. She slowly sat up, the sheet sliding from her body, revealing her unbelievable breasts, huge, round, and incredibly firm. C glanced down at them, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. He thought they were perfection. It was difficult for his eyes to tear away from her perky pink nipples.
It took her a couple of seconds to work out what was going on, before she snatched up her sheet and wrapped it around herself, anger overcoming her.
"Who the f-, what the hell are you doing on my ship, kid?" she yelled at him, her words notably slurred. She was definitely drunk.
C knew from his training that he would have to remain focused and calm in this situation. Zed had taught him this. He couldn't let himself become flustered, or worse, infatuated. He kicked her underwear, now caught around his ankle, to the side, and began to walk slowly towards to door, walking sideways so he could keep his eyes on her. He would make a little gold from selling those guns anyway; he didn't need to push his luck. Besides, she hadn't seen his face, it was too dark. She wouldn't ever recognize him, especially considering the two bottles of wine. He figured he'd just leave with his loot and never see them again. They were obviously from Bilgewater, not Piltover. Sarah jumped up off of her bed, wrapping her sheet around her body, and staggered slightly as she struggled to keep balance through her inebriation.
"Where do you think you're going, kid? You can't just leave now after coming in perving on me!" she said, almost jovially. Her words were rhythmical and almost song like, they rolled off of her tongue beautifully, not suggesting any threat or hostility. C chose to remain quiet, and continue walking sideways towards the door. Sarah watched him moving, and walked over to her desk clumsily. She scrabbled around her desk, looking for her guns, before realizing what had likely become of them. She looked up at C, a little concerned, and her shock was compounded when her eyes met C, who was now pointing one of her own guns straight at her. He still hadn't said anything to her, remaining silent.
"N-now steady on kid, you wouldn't want to hurt lil me would you?" she said quietly, the faintest quiver of fear detectable in her voice. She nervously adjusted the sheet covering her modesty, and she began to kneel down, trying to take cover behind the desk. C simply reached the door, and backed out of it, still pointing the gun towards her desk. He allowed the door to close behind him, restowing the pistol, and diving over the side of the ship into the sea. He had a sneaking suspicion that this wouldn't be the last he'd see of this pirate, however.
Sarah sat down at her desk, contemplating what had just happened to her. Her thoughts were blurry from the wine she'd drunk. She'd only come to Piltover for a break, a weekend off, to look around the shops and possibly get some maintenance on her ship. And now she'd lost her prized guns. And there was nothing she could have done about it. She slammed her fists down on the desk, and a tear rolled down her cheek, escaping from her right eye. She reached into her drawer, and pulled out a bottle of vintage rum, something she only drank on rare occasions. Now was one of those awkward moments. She took a swig from the bottle, the alcohol in the solution burning her mouth and throat as she swallowed it down. She took another swig, before the additional alcohol hit her system. She burped loudly, the force of it making her jump slightly. She stood up, swaying for a moment before steadying herself on the desk again, and stumbled uncontrollably to her bed, collapsing on to it, falling back into a slumber.
The following morning, C woke up in his room. His living circumstances were curious. He split half of his time living in a basement underneath a warehouse, and the other half living in his grandparents old house. Currently, he was in the basement. He slept on the floor with nothing but a pillow and a sheet in the corner, with another sheet anchored to the wall about 6 feet up, with two more anchors holding it to the floor, creating a tent-like structure. He rose, removing one of the anchors from the floor in order to let himself out, and strode into the middle of the basement. It had clearly previously been used as a storage space for the warehouse above, as boxes and crates lined the walls all around him, apart from his one little corner. He just slept in a pair of boxers, and he stood in the middle of the room, stretching broadly. He was slender, but muscular, with broad shoulders. He finished stretched, pushing his hand through the fringe of his hair, so that it sat backwards on top of his head, instead of over his forehead. He turned to the right and walked through a doorway at the far side of the room, into an industrial looking chamber mainly covered by pipes and brackets. He moved to the side of the room, and turned a wheel on one of the pipes. This caused water to come spilling down from the top of the room, from a pipe that C had sheered a hole into. His makeshift shower. He removed his boxers and stood under the running water, his hair and body quickly becoming doused. The water was ice cold, and his skin immediately came out in goosebumps, his muscles involuntarily shivering through the chill. He shut his eyes and leant his head back, the water splashing over his face and running down his neck, travelling through the creases in his skin where his muscles were defined. After allowing the water to soak his entire body, he stepped away from the stream of water, and moved towards the valve on the wall, shutting the flow of water off. He grabbed a towel that he owned, that was draped over one of the pipes, wrapping it around himself. Striding back into the other chamber, he looked into his tent, seeing the two guns he'd taken from Miss Fortune's ship. He would take them to the market and cash them out later, as soon as he'd dried and dressed. The towel slipped from around his body, and he pulled on a pair of boxers. He wouldn't wear his gear out in the City, he had ample clothes of Piltover fashion so he could blend into the population. He pulled on a pair of black denim jeans and a white buttoned-up shirt, stepping into a pair of brown leather shoes. Stuffing the guns hastily into his shoulder pack, slinging it over his shoulder, he strode out of the door to the chamber, and up the stairs. He had to unbarricade the door that lead to the basement stairs. He would forcibly jam it shut whenever he was sleeping there, to avoid people walking in on him unexpectedly. People had given up on even trying to get in there, after many attempts left them unable to force the door open.
He strode out into the fresh air, and to his disdain, it was raining. He couldn't be bothered to go back into the basement to grab an overcoat, and simply began walking away from the warehouse. The warehouse was situated right in the middle of the industrial district of Piltover, surrounded by various factories, processing plants, and the main power station for the Western part of the City. It took him a good half an hour to walk around the various winding roads to get through the industrial area to anywhere approaching the urbanized City Centre. Eventually however, he came to the start of the shopping district, signaling that he had arrived at the Centre. At the start of the district, it was mainly all shopping malls and high end retailers, jewellers and the like. He walked past several stores selling jewellery, gazing in each time as he did so. Piltover had hundreds of these stores, and he could never quite see the point of them all. Material possessions were rather wasted on people, he thought, hence how he could live in a basement with such little to call his own. He didn't even find the jewellery being sold attractive. It just looked like overpriced nonsense to him. He would much rather invest in a rather more ornate blade. He had once owned such a blade, a medium-sized knife that he used to hide up his sleeve, the blade protruding from a Lion's mouth on the hilt. It was by far the most meaningful thing he had ever owned, it had been presented to him by Zed himself, as C graduated up to the final tier in the Order of the Shadows. The blade however, was no longer in his possession. It had been stolen from him in his sleep by a jealous member of the Order, back when C still resided in the headquarters, helping to instruct new acolytes under Zed. He never found out who, but he vowed to never be tricked again in such a way, especially in his sleep.
He turned a left after a flurry of outlets, down a slightly more dingy road. At the end of said road, he walked through an archway and into a market square, looking around for a place that would take his loot from him. He walked down one of the rows of stalls, to a familiar vendor. He reached the counter, and waited. The vendor was a grizzled, middle aged man. He was tall, almost as tall as C, who stood at close to two metres, and he was broad shouldered and burly. He was stocky, with long, thinning brown hair, streaked with grey where he was losing his colour. His face was wrinkled and his lips naturally pursed, from what seems like years of chain smoking. The man took his time walking to the other side of the counter, before placing both of his knuckles on the table, leaning forwards. He looked at C in the eye, almost glaring at him momentarily.
"What've you got for me?" the man said gruffly, his voice gravelly and coarse.
C stood behind the counter, holding the man's gaze, slowly sliding the pack off of his back. C and the vendor, Hakim, were on good terms, they'd shared several drinks together in bars on chance occasions, but they didn't truly see eye to eye. Hakim knew of C's dealing with the Order of the Shadows, knowing that he could never truly trust C. Placing the pack on the table, C took out the two guns, and placed them on the table. Hakim looked at the guns, and immediately his eyebrows raised slightly, seemingly in surprise. C never usually brought much value to Hakim, but this time it seemed to be different. Hakim picked up one of the guns, looking over it with one eye, the other shut.
"Now, where in Valoran would a kid like you get hold of something like this…" Hakim said quietly, his voice becoming even more gravelly under his breath.
C simply stood there, saying nothing. He placed his hand on the other gun, and pushed it towards Hakim. He simply wanted some gold and then to get out. He had other business to attend to in the day.
Hakim was curious, placing the first gun down, and picking up the second. He looked it over the same way as in the first one, examining every inch with his keenly trained eye.
"Just give me a price, Hakim…" C stated bluntly.
Hakim grunted irritatedly back at him, placing the second gun down next to the other.
"5,000, each. Take it or leave it." Hakim said shortly back to him. They had seemingly run out of patience with each other already.
C nodded quickly, and made a small 'mmm' of agreement. Hakim opened his cash registered, and took out a cheque book, hastily handing C a cheque for 10,000 gold. C stuffed the cheque into his pouch, hanging from his waste, nodded in acknowledgement to Hakim, before spinning around and walking away. He would cash the cheque later, but for now, he needed to meet a group of three acolytes under his control.
As soon as he had received his cheque, he was already back through the entrance arch to the market square, walking hastily towards the outskirts of the City, although on the other side to the industrial area where he lived. He only ever met acolytes in a secluded, abandoned building towards the mountain at the back of the City. He was taking the most pragmatic approach to get to his destination, walking in as straight a line as possible. He reached the end of one of the secondary roads, where it joined up to one of the main streets. He looked left and right, before something curious caught his eye. To the right, he saw her. Sarah Fortune, striding in all of her glory down the road, looking slightly worse for wear, and a tad angry. 'Oh well', C thought to himself, he was hooded and masked the night before, no big deal. He couldn't help but make eye contact with her, but as he did, her facial expression turned even more sour than it already had been before. She recoiled for a second, before shooting him an acidic glare. She reached him, and immediately pushed him back down the side road he'd just walked up.
"Your eyes were all I needed to recognize you in a crowd, fool!" she growled.