"Why is it so dark brother?" The little boy asked, while his brother grabbed him in a tight hug and hid behind the wall. Their parents had went out of the house before one hour, telling them to hide if someone comes. This was not the normal thing to happen, when someone knocked on the door, their dad would usually open it and greet the guest. But, dad and mom were gone now.
The little boy is no older than five winters. His hair is brown, cleaned and combed. His eyes were also brown. He was not high, more like the average height for a five year old. The long fingers on his hands show that he would be a great scriber or musician. His brother is really different though. Dark, un combed hair flows down his back, while his dark eyes glimmer with a feeling he would not experience soon after the events taking place in the house.
After breathing a few times in and out, the older boy releases his brother and walks to the entrance to their house. His hands are quick, adjusting the so - called bomb, which his family had purchased on an auction just a week ago. It should blow in five minutes. Swiftly, the boy leads his brother to their room and lifts the carpet. The little boy is fast in taking his favourite toy - the figurine of a wolf.
The older brother opens a trap door, leading to the ceiling. He pushes the little boy down. The youngling starts descending down the ladder, while his brother went towards the door leading to their bedroom and closes it. Then he enters the basement with the little one and closes the trap door.
It was equally dark in the basement as it was upstairs. The little one prepares to ask again, but his brother started running off towards a little chest in the corner. He opened it and took a purse with gold, which is supposed to be able to sustain their family for ten months. He left the chest open and rushes to a pipe, which will lead them to the river one mile from their house.
The little boy is looking around, unable to understand, but his brother grabs his hand quickly and hauls him in the pipe.
"Come on, fast!" He says, while crawling into the shaft after the little boy. They start slumping towards the other end, which they cannot see, but know is there. A shout is heard, then the door breaks, because the crack was recognizable easily. The duo continue to crawl, while the younger boy doesn't understand what is going on. However, his brother knows.
After what seems an eternity to the smaller boy, he falls in the cold water of the murky river. Good thing they both know how to swim, because if they didn't, the danger they just avoided might have been a better option than drowning. The youngling starts flopping his legs and arms, trying to reach the coast, while his brother falls from the pipe after him.
Reaching the sandy coast, they turn and look at their home. Then, just after that eternity, the younger brother thought, an explosion echoed throughout the area, and the little hut they called home once, exploded.
The younger brother looked at the scene for a few moments, before realizing what actually happened. Tears flooded his eyes. He started crying, because it was normal for a child to cry. Yet, a thing so wicked would have caused anybody to cry.
"Draven..."
The glorious executioner opened his dark eyes, just to witness LeBlanc's beautiful face right above his. Her silky hair was probably tied in a pony - tail fashion, but when she realized he was awake, her lips curved into a smile. She kissed him lightly and sat next to him. Not that they didn't share the bed every night, but she usually got up really early, no matter what they did the previous night.
"What is it?" He asked. Her strange yet beautiful eyes narrowed. Draven got up and started putting the garments he usually wore. One of the privileges of being the 'father' of the camp was the personal hut. While other refugees had to share the huts with six or five more people, he had that one favor of being all by himself, and LeBlanc of course, in their own hut.
"It's that Rengar and Gordoth are waiting for you on the table." Of course, she was talking about the huge stone which was formed in a strange way, much like a table, where they usually met up and solved problems of the kind of security and food.
"What is the purpose?" Damn, I can't belive they got up before me. He thought, because he usually checked on the gates. His lover sighed and drew a hand along his left hand.
"Why always so serious? Can't you just act more like... Like..." She stuttered, searching for a word. Draven knew what she wanted to say.
"Like the older Draven?" She nodded. "He is dead. If I still acted like this, we wouldn't be in the position we are in right now. It would be much, MUCH worse." She was silenced by the answer she earned. LeBlanc knew that it hurted Draven to be so far from his home, he felt as if all the evil in the world had just knocked on his door, and he was unfortunate to open it.
He stocked his axes on his back and walked out of the hut. If someone looked at Draven now, and then remembered him as he was before one year. His hair now flung loose over his back, no longer held by the crown. Actually, he would still be wearing it, if it was not the only thing keeping Teemo's ribcage together. Poor yordle had the bad luck to get into Darius' way, which led to his infamous guillotine. But because of his speed, Teemo was able to dodge the killing blow. Yet, the axe literally splits his ribcage. Good thing that Draven was fast enough to slip the crown around his chest. And, as if a miracle happened, Teemo survived.
Draven's attire was no longer the fancy, strange garment he used in the times of the League. Now it was just a simple coat, fine pants and his old shoes. He never left his shoes. They were special to him, for some reason.
Opening the door, he walked out of their little hut and headed towards the 'table'. Looking around himself, as he usually did, his eyes hovering over the bigger huts which housed other champions. The main area, as they called it, was formed around the stone, with other wooden tables around it, represented the dining area. They all wanted to go back to their homes, yet if they left their cover, the Noxians, Piltoverians and Zaunites would chase them, and probably end their lives.
He made his way to the 'table', where Gordoth's robed figure waited for him. Strange that he couldn't find Rengar. The mentioned tiger placed his paw on the glorious executioner's shoulder.
"Bo." Draven almost jumped in the air. Almost. But his training kicked in and he remained calm.
"Good way to surprise somebody Rengar. Although, I don't recommend doing it here anymore." He replied. Rengar exploded in laugher, while Gordoth smirked.
"I usually leap towards my targets, with weapons aimed at the left side of their neck! You are lucky I just placed my hand on your shoulder!" The tiger managed to explain between bursts of laugher.
"So, what is it?" Draven asked them. Gordoth looked at Rengar, who was still laughing. I don't even understand why is he laughing... Draven thought.
"Rengar made an interesting discovery, which concludes of a blood bath and some recognizable bodies. Also a blood puddle, which reminded him of a really annoying Noxian." The summoner explained, then looked at Rengar. As if allowing him to talk. The hunter coughed and looked at Draven again.
"Vladimir, Lux and a whole Demacian battalion. Dead, in one cavern. Lady Crownguard was the last of the Demacians to reach the second chamber, where a third champion had resided not long ago. It seems that she battled that man and lost. A few months later, Vladimir joined the mass grave. He was beheaded by a man you now one too well. It was Taric. The massacre was Taric's deed. Seems he got quite powerful in that year we haven't seen him..." Rengar told Draven.
The executioner was shocked. Taric? He made the ant's way out of battle, and now? Now he defeated a Demacian battalion? Draven's thoughts raced.
"Where was he?" He asked. Rengar lifted a brow. "Where was Taric when you went there?" Draven repeated his question.
"Pfft. He wasn't there. Left, probably to the Freljord. It is a wasteland there, so no one would look for him. " The pride stalker replied. Draven scratched the back of his head, then sighed.
"Well, that's bad for us. If we had him on our side, we would not have to worry from attacks. Because a man who can defeat a whole battalion would be of use. But... He is gone. Far away, so we won't think about him." The glorious executioner replied.