A Reaper Reborn

Blood.

The essence of life.

There was nothing more fascinating than this simple yet beautiful red liquid. And there was one man who knew this more than anyone else: Vladimir, The Crimson Reaper. As a champion for Noxus he was known for his powers – and for his cruelty. Even the other champions feared him, because almost everyone had blood in their bodies. And where's blood, there is death – at least when you piss off the Crimson Reaper. So there was no surprise no one noticed what was happening in the Chambers of the Bloodlord. No one heard the inhuman cry that came from the room.

Vladimir was lying on the floor while pain seared through his whole body. Parts of his body turned into blood, just to return back to their normal shape. His magic, no, his entire existence, was highly unstable. From nowhere a powerful voice echoed through the room: "How dare you to defy us! You are nothing but a vessel to us, young one. Have you not sworn to obey your masters? Didn't we give you the power you wanted? Don't you even think about turning your back to us!"

The young man had curled into a ball, as if he was trying to hide from the voices. But he couldn't because they came from his very existence. They were right. They had taken him in. They had given him power. But they had him do terrible things. Cruel things. Everyone feared him... no. Everyone HATED him just for what he was. Also everyone thought he was an arrogant prick, because the masters opinions of other beings that had no control over their life-force was pretty low. He could live with the image, but he could not live with the hate. One would no think of it, but the loneliness has eaten on Vladimir since the day he left Noxus as a young boy. And it was a grave difference in just being alone and being hated by the world.

The chorus of voices grew again, but this time no one could understand what it was saying. Vladimir felt like he was screamed at by a hundred people who all wanted him to obey. Suddenly he stood up an screamed. A sudden outburst of magic caused everything in the room to fly around. The voices were gone. Now it was just him, standing right in the middle of the chaos he made of his room. A tear of blood flowed down from his right eye, passed his lips and dropped from his chin. Then another one. And another. Finally. After all these years. He was free.

For now.

He knew the voices of his masters would return. They always did, but this time they would stay away for longer – at least he hoped that much.

I really need help, thought the young man. Indeed he needed help. Not only with keeping his murderous teachers in check, but getting together with the champions of the League would not be easy. Most of them hated him.

Also he did not trust Swain or LeBlanc. They may be his superiors, but Vladimir had a bad feeling about asking the Grand General for help in a rather personal matter like this. Also there was no guarantee that Swain would actually help him. Noxus needed a bloodthirsty warmonger on the fields of justice – not a boy who just wants to be friendly with everybody. The High Command would rather turn him back as fast as possible instead of helping him – that's just how Noxus worked. Strength over everything. But he also couldn't count on the help of the Demacians. No matter how much you hate Noxus, as long as you come from there, they despised you. Also he would not want to face Garen Crownguard again. That hulk of a man caused him to have several rather traumatic (and painful) experiences with bushes in the Summoner's Rift.

Still in thought Vladimir stumbled out of his chambers. He was weakened. The fight with his masters had taken more of his energy than he had expected. It was nighttime already and the moon shined on the institute of war. Fighting dizziness and several blackouts he made his way towards the support gardens. One of the healing champions would rather help him than one of the others. Vladimir had no idea who the current supports were, that resided in the gardens. The gardens were the only place that was not separated by nations and allegiances. Soraka would be there. Taric maybe.

He had reached the entrance to the gardens when he found a piece of newspaper that was pinned to the wall. The topics did not interest Vladimir, it was about some movie called "A new dawn". The date on the top of the page was way more interesting to him. With the knowledge that he had spent the last three days in his room without food or sleep he collapsed right on the entrance of the support gardens.

After some time a man passed the spot where the young hemomancer had collapsed. It was a rather big man. On his head there was a little white animal sitting. A white ball of fluffiness with big eyes and an even bigger mouth. When it saw then man on the ground it jumped down and tried to lick his face. The big man picked it up from the floor. "No, he's not dead I think.", said the giant man with a worried look on his face, "You want to take him with us?" The little creature nodded eagerly.

"Well Braum is here for ya," , said the man and tried to lift Vladimir from the ground. It looked like a child that was picking up a feather. But the hemomancer's subconsciousness sensed Braum as a threat and Vladimir turned into a puddle of blood on the spot. "Now I haven't seen that before... must be some tricky magic. No Poro, don't drink that!"

The puddle reformed into the young man, but Braum still could not pick him up.

After a short time Braum had an idea how he could carry the hemomancer. The only logical way to carry a liquid was to bottle it up somehow - and that's what he did.

He went to Gragas' bar, picked up an unused barrel and rushed back on the spot where he found Vladimir. Since the mage would turn into the puddle on the slightest touch Braum had some difficulties fitting the man inside the barrel, but he made it. With the barrel on his back Braum thought about this young man. He had never seen him before. Chances were high that he was a champion. Maybe one of the lesser picked? Well, anyways, he had to help him. When he arrived in his quarters he put the plug the bathtub and spilled the barrels contents right into the tub. The young man started to take on his original form. But somehow he could not complete his transformation. Now it looked like the mans head was floating in a sea of blood, sleeping peacefully. But the head seemed pretty alive and that was enough for Braum. Picking up the Poro - it was still trying to drink the red liquid - he headed out again to find someone who knew this magic. The young man was save here.

Vladimir wasn't completely unconscious during the process, but he was too weak to open his eyes and thank his savior. Somehow he had woken up a bit when he was spilled into a bathtub. He had no idea why he had ended up in a bathroom out of all places, but before he could finish his thoughts he fell into deep slumber again.

/ Hello there, Kyoki Shinkuro here. This will be the start to a longer series I planned to write for a long time... well now I have holidays and updates should follow pretty soon. Also this is one of my first projects on fanfiction and english is not my first language so please have mercy on me ^^.

Also please leave a review. Constructive critics are highly appreciated.

Ps: Ofc Braum can talk to Poros. For me that little headcanon is already canon lore /