"Vladimir is worse than a mosquito. They both suck blood, but one dies easily and the other gets stronger if you want him to die." –Warwick
"The rivers will run red."
Deep within one of the dormitories sat a long-haired man in a fancy red coat befitting of a hemomancer. He dipped his quill into a bottle of blood, making sure to make some of the blood drop from the tip of the utensil before continuing to write.
Vladimir, a Noxian who studied the art of hemomancy, wrote wildly, his pale eyes darting to the sides of the paper all too frequently, his breath held to not tarnish his work. Long had he studied the art of manipulating blood, a fluid that had practically become his very own water, and at that point, he studied nearly everything one could do with blood. He tossed blood, impaled people with blood, recreated the Statue of Jarvan III with blood before throwing a bomb of blood at it- he had gone beyond the point of simply learning hemomancy. Rather, he now focused on mastering it.
But of course, one could not simply live off of doing hemomancy, and hemomancy only. Thankfully for Vladimir, he found a new hobby that fit right into his tastes. His writing become more fervent than before, his eyes widened as his fingers squeezed against the quill harder and harder as he neared the completion of his masterpiece.
Yes, he would make all of those champions in the Break drop dead with the arsenal he created out of his very own imagination! Surely, they would drop dead, and he will have the last laugh.
Signing his name on the paper, he put the quill down. At last, he had constructed another work of hypnotic art. And he decided to read it out loud to revel in his success.
"Let's POOL our efforts!"
Vladimir liked to make puns.
Picking up a document of blood transfusions (that weren't even his), he proclaimed, "I'm a universal RECIPIENT!"
He really liked making puns.
Vladimir picked up a bottle of blood and thrusted it forward dramatically, reciting, "Care to make a DONATION?"
He liked making puns way too much.
Standing up with an updated list of puns, he smiled. With this, nobody can out-pun me, he thought proudly.
And really, the only reason why nobody could out-pun him in the first place was because only he liked puns. Well, there probably was a select few that would enjoy it, but so far he never met someone like that.
Not that he cared.
He just wanted to make jokes.
And he was intent on not experiencing them alone.
Jax fished at a local river near the Institute of War, humming to himself. Sitting in a small wooden boat, the Grandmaster at Arms found peace in fishing.
Yet again, he caught another fish. "Oh," he chuckled as he pulled at his fishing rod, "it's a big one." The Grandmaster at Arms pulled at the fishing rod, intent on freeing the fish after observing what it exactly was.
But it wasn't a fish.
"HOLY SH-"
"Sur-PRIIIIIIIIIIIISE!" Vladimir said as he squirmed into the boat, tearing off Jax's lure from his tongue with a grin. "I'm back."
"DAMMIT, VLAD, DON'T DO THAT SH#%!" Jax screamed, clutching his heart as he took deep breaths. It had only been so long since he had a real doctor fix his heart, so he needed to keep his breathing at a normal pace.
Snorting, Vladimir brushed his hair with a claw as he simply responded, "Have you been fishing for my scent? I believe that is bloody disappointing."
"V-… Vlad, just stop."
"The rivers will run red," Vladimir said as he dipped a hand in the water. Much to Jax's surprise, the area in which he put his hand in steadily became red. The hemomancer screamed in pain as he clutched his arm, attempting to pull it out of the water.
"Vlad, what's wrong?!" Jax exclaimed as he approached Vladimir.
"A crocodile's got me! Oh, how foolish of me! Damn it!"
"Crap, lemme get my lamppost-"
Gritting his teeth, the Crimson Reaper barely let out a gasp as he tore his arm out of the water.
His hand was missing. Or more like Vladimir just pulled his hand into his sleeve.
"How about you just… give me a hand?" The Reaper asked as he slowly slid his hand out of his long sleeve.
Jax picked up his lamppost and sent Vladimir all the way back to the Institute of War. The Crimson Reaper landed on an anthill in a playground.
Poppy took a bite out of a chocolate bar, kicking her legs in the air as she rested on one of the Break's benches in the first floor lobby. She decided to take a brief rest before setting off to help Garen deliver a package of supplies to the Institute of War.
She thought Garen was awesome. He had the honor of a knight, the coolness of a warrior, and most importantly, the charisma of a dashing leader.
Heh heh, she smiled as she thought about the Might of Demacia leading an army of loyal knights. He's so cool. It'd be awesome if he was the hero I'm looking for.
And don't get her wrong; she really did need to find the hero for the legendary hammer she had been carrying around for quite a while. And until then, she was stuck just participating in League matches and the like. If Garen really was the hero, though, it would be a huge plus, considering how awesome he was. But alas, he believed that he did not fit the qualities to wield such a weapon, and that he was better off mastering the swordsmanship he had vigorously trained with.
She wanted to be like Garen!
And then Vladimir happened.
"A sugar rush, or a blood rush?" He asked behind her, leaning against the bench with his elbows. "Or a tinge of both, perhaps?"
"Gah! V-Vlad?" Poppy jumped, her heart beating at the sight of one of the most detested champions in the League. Not because of his personality in itself, but mostly just his love for… stupid things.
"Sur-PRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE! I'm ba-… wait, I already said that…"
The Crimson Reaper fell silent as he put up a thoughtful look.
Staring at the Noxian with wide eyes, she remained still, leaning away from the hemomancer. Interesting things had been said about the pale-eyed man, and Poppy also heard about him doing the macarena as he sapped blood from a bandit in the Institute of War. She did not want to get macarena'd on.
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Vladimir seemed too absorbed with his thoughts. Not a single word came from him as he continued to think on what to say.
The girl nibbled out of her chocolate, keeping her eyes on the Noxian once in a while. Vladimir seemed to break out of his train of thoughts as he simply watched the yordle eat.
As she bit apart the chocolate, the Keeper of the Hammer noticed the Crimson Reaper's gaze. "W-What?" She managed to let out.
"I never really noticed this until now," the pun-lover confessed, "but chocolate makes the blood of people around me a lot sweeter than usual."
"…And?"
"Just saying. Be careful with how much chocolate you eat; I might just eat you."
The yordle's eyes widened as she trembled, snatching her hammer and holding it close to her. With hammer and chocolate in hand, the girl inched away from the Crimson Reaper.
"…I'd love a PINT."
Poppy smashed Vladimir across the face and sent him flying out of the Champions' Break like a missile.
Vladimir believed that he was on the right track of becoming funny.
After all, the greatest comedians of all time always had to experiment with jokes and how they worked to create masterpieces. Who would have known that Charlie Chaplin's supposedly stupid gags turned out to be stupid to the point where they were just too genius? He wanted to make people think that of his creativity as well.
Who would have known that Vladimir's supposedly stupid gags turned out to be stupid to the point where they were just too genius?
…Though, he disagreed with the notion that his gags were stupid. They had a level of class and beauty to them that many other jokes did not share.
And so, to test the peak of his limits, he went to the top floor of the Champions' Break.
From what he heard, Mordekaiser barely laughed at anything aside from extreme satire and violent jokes. But Vladimir believed that such things were not needed to make one laugh. If he could learn how to make Mordekaiser laugh, then surely, he would learn how to make everyone else laugh.
Why he wanted to make people laugh, even he did not know. The fact that he did not care why he researched puns shut down most theories about his mindset in an instant.
The Crimson Reaper walked down the hallway to Mordekaiser's lair. With confidence, he knocked on the iron man's door. Surely, Mordekaiser had a taste different from that of the sensitive lifeforms that had spent too much time with mortality.
"You only need to knock once, fool!"
"…Oh? A challenge…"
Accepting Mordekaiser's challenge (?), the Noxian raised a balled fist as he exclaimed, "Then I shall knock… half a knock!"
And with that, he knocked on the door.
With half of a knock.
Silence was Mordekaiser's answer, and he soon opened the door with a surprisingly quiet demeanor.
"How'd you do that?" Mordekaiser asked immediately.
Rolling his neck quickly, the hemomancer chuckled as he explained, "Skills."
Before the lord of undead tore him a new one, Vladimir explained yet again, "Ok, basically you use half of the strength you'd normally use to knock a door. After that, you need to keep pressing your fist against the door and walk three steps to the right before bending your fist a bit without having it leave the door. Then you-"
"Forget it," the Master of Metal interrupted after his brain overloaded. "Who are you, and what do you want with me, the lord of undead?"
"I'm here to ask if my jokes are funny."
"You're already a joke."
"That wasn't funny."
Clearing his throat, Vladimir closed his eyes as he raised his hands by the side. "What do you call… a glass of chicken breast and fruit juice?"
"A bucket of sh#%."
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"…Don't tell me that was the right answer."
Vladimir smirked as he brushed his hair with one of his claws. "The clot THICKENS-"
"Get out."
Although he had faith in his own jokes, Vladimir decided that he still had much to learn. Especially when people started to successfully guess the answers behind his joke questions…
Author's Notes:
I consider this to be a side-chapter. I like Vladimir.
Next chapter – "Flowerkaiser!"