My actual attempt at a full-length story. This is just a kind of teaser, to gauge the audience's reactions.
-DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or the setting. The only thing I own is the (somewhat subpar) plot.
"The Void," mused a dark figure to himself. "It stirs..."
Crack.
Startled, the man whipped around, holding aloft a glowing, purple blade, illuminating the surrounding area. He had heard something, but he had been careful in his coming to the Void, on this routine check-up. Kassadin began to relax. Maybe he was just para-
A dark shape hurtled out from beyond the illumination of his Nether Blade, the followed by a horde of his fellows. Kassadin whirled around, slashing- the first wave of Voidlings fell apart, instantly sliced in half by the enhanced power of his glowing weapon.
Another wave surged forwards, Kassadin letting forth a wave of energy in front of him, all but disintegrating the unfortunate Voidlings in the front. The ones in the back toppled over, legs spasming, then gripping together in their final death throes.
Another surge. Another spell. More Voidlings, simply dying without abandon against the bulwark of Kassadin's spells, charged forwards.
Powerful as he was, the Void Walker knew he couldn't sustain such a defense against the Voidlings. There were just too many of them, and his limited Magic reserves were rapidly running out. There was simply no way he could hold. So he ran. Valoran had to be warned- the legions of the Void were stirring again.
Floating over the darkened soil of the Void, Kassadin headed for the entrance from the Void into Valoran. Barely faster than the skittering Voidlings, he fled.
The portal was in eyesight. But there was a figure in front.
"Malzahar..." Kassadin muttered.
"Kassadin!" the Prophet called out. "You have seen but a fraction of the Void's power. It is not too late! Join us, and help spread the Glory of the Void!"
"Never!" Kassadin's shout was accented by his Riftwalking behind Malzahar, and putting all of his energy into slicing downwards, cutting off the Prophet's right arm. Leaping away, Kassadin rested his arm on the ground. He had overloaded something in his Blade, but if it would stop Malzahar, it would be worth it.
Malzahar just looked to his right, a slight look of confusion on his face. His Right arm, severed, fell and hit the ground with a thud. Then, a small smile, as the Prophet flexed his right shoulder. The arm that Kassadin had removed, began to grow back. Half a minute later, the entire thing was restored without a blemish or mark to show the harm Kassadin had done to it.
"Foolish mortal. I have ascended beyond your comprehension..." said Malzahar, in a new, deeper, more ominous voice. He thought for a moment. "I will give you one more chance though. One more chance..."
"to Join us..."
Malzahar turned and walked into the darkness. "If not, this year will be your last..." came the echoing voice of the Prophet.
Kassadin slowly backed away, the Voidlings having left with their master. "I must... warn... Valoran..." he muttered to himself as he collapsed by the portal. Summoning up the last reserves of his energy, the Void Walker, too tired to float or teleport, stumbled across the barrier, and finally fell about twenty feet from the glowing portal to the Void in Icathia. There, among the crumbled ruins of the annihilated city, below the stars of a new sky, inhabitant of a changed world, he slept.