Act 1, Chapter 2

Veigar was disappointed.

"Can't we stop by for a little while? There's an absolutely perfect view of Mount Targon up the mountain! Besides, if we cut through the mountain pass, it will be twice as fast as going around! Can't you understand simple travel routes?"

"Will you two give it a rest already?"

"Never!"

"I told you furball; cutting through the Targonian mountains is a shortcut to death, plain and simple. Around these parts, especially in these times, it's essential that we lay low and stick to the coastal roads. Got that?"

"You should just let lil' Vei do what he wants. He's never led us into a situation we couldn't handle before, has he?"

"That's right! If you're never going to listen to me, then why in mortal hell did you take me on board to be your navigator?!"

"Correction: he's never led us into a situation that I couldn't handle. You'd best bet all your souls would have left the mortal realm the day he joined us if I weren't the best damn driver in Runeterra!"

Oberon sneered at the vastayan girl behind him and the little animated forest rodent who obediently sat in her lap. Already on his usual high horse, he used the opportunity to make a few more targeted remarks on his own behalf.

"And to answer your question, Furball, I only let you aboard because Fae threatened to replace me with a rodent if I declined, obviously!"

The driver snickered to himself. His only audience were the unamused wooly beasts that drove their caravan, as the other two had clearly ignored his comment.

Fae stopped grooming Veigar's conditioned fur to gently turn his head up toward hers so that he would notice the overly dramatic blank look on her face.

"Hey Vei, let's throw this creep out of our vehicle and let Ruth take the wheel? That sound good to you?"

Veigar threw his hands and feet in the air like an ecstatic child, in full agreement of Fae's plan. Their fourth party member, who was weaving new baskets to store supplies in, looked toward the two from the back corner of the wagon at the sound of his name. Fae waved at him to pay no mind to their banter, as he wouldn't understand their jokes anyway.

Oberon's good mood faded, quickly catching on to the carelessly gleeful mood inside of the wagon. Veigar: smart, crafty, and frighteningly good with maps, yet he had zero experience traveling, nor was he any pleasure to be around. Worst of all, he was constantly stealing the attention of Fae, who had been all but cold to him since the addition of their new recruit. What the hell kind of creature was he, anyway?

This, unfortunately for him, had become the new norm in their traveling party. While the new member had helped business boom during the dangerous wartimes, gone were the days of his teens when it was just a humble duo between him and the cute, fluffy eared girl he had found fleeing from the oppression of her isolated city. Ever since that day, while he had tried for years and years to subtly win her affection, that thing had done it from the moment she had met him. Sure, he was more like her pet than anything else, but what if there were deeper feelings beneath that? And above that, the two were always so close and cuddly that Oberon was jealous of him no matter what he was to her.

"Alright, alright. I'll take the damn mountain pass. But I have conditions too: A, Fae rides up front with me. And B, if any of our client's product gets damaged, Veigar takes the fall. All of it."

Not able to let himself be the butt of his own group, Oberon decided that compromising would be the only way he could get what he wanted. He looked back to gauge reactions, but two of his traveling companions only gave dissatisfied looks, while the third simply paid no mind.

"No, seriously. I don't know what the hell is in those crates, but with the buck we're getting for this job, we'd better be ready to hand them over on a silver platter. I don't want to be responsible for paying any damages. Taking the hit to our good rep' would be bad enough."

Fae still looked puzzled, so the driver continued explaining through a slight blush.

"And, well... it gets boring up here, you know? Would be nice to have some company. You know, just for awhile."

Oberon turned his eyes back to the front to hide his obvious embarrassment.

"Do I have to? I'm helping Ruth with baskets. Plus, Vei will get lonely without me. Right?"

The yordle had no response, as he was both too embarrassed to admit to her claim, as well as troubled with both options. While he had no passion that rivaled the stars, the soft touch of Fae's hands was its own sort of pleasure. He never knew being groomed could be so euphoric, despite its humiliating implications. Veigar only grumbled, leaving the decision to his caretaker, who seemed less critical of her options.

"Well, I suppose a bit of sunlight wouldn't be bad for my skin. Vei, you help Ruth with the baskets, okay?"

"I suppose I can..."

Veigar hopped up onto his feet, exchanging his map for the weave that his perky-eared companion started, then walked over to join Ruth. The dark-skinned shuriman boy held a still fist in his direction, which the yordle bumped with his own fluffy hand. This was a gesture taught to him, and everybody else for that matter, by Oberon, who insisted they all do it upon greeting. While Veigar nor Fae cared much for it, they never failed to act it out with Ruth, who had taken to it the most. Considering he couldn't speak nor read much, it only made sense that he would substitute it in for regular communication. Veigar figured that he must have had similar gestures that he used with his fellow slaves before he escaped.

While he liked Fae the most, his respect actually lied more with Ruth, who was both meticulous and efficient with his hands, as well as one to not pay heed to the bother of those around him. Supposedly he was the first third-party addition to the caravan, as well as the longest lasting. In the words of Oberon, he's useful as hell, but wouldn't do a damn thing for you if it meant his life. But that's why he's still alive, too. While he had a point, Veigar didn't much like the way that his leader saw past and present members of their group as no more than tools, coming and going. He knew that the boy was worth more than that. After all, he too had the same expression on his face back in his childhood days.

The two got to work on the baskets while Fae hopped up into the passenger's seat. Oberon, completely oblivious to his earlier concerns of safety, was now stupidly gleeful that he had won his girl back over, even if only conditionally. He had her pass him the map she had traded Veigar for, and adjusted his compass.

"And we're off!"

He cracked his whip, and the beasts pressed on with both speed and vigor.

Being none more than simple travelers from all walks of life, Oberon and his crew were almost exclusively in the business of trade and transportation. During wartimes, which seemed to be happening all the more often as of late, those two businesses usually thrived. However, if Oberon had one rule he would never budge on, it was that he never dealt weapons, and he never got involved in wars. And he was a stubborn fellow, which meant business was slow. However, because most caravans did shift their interest to war when it came calling, there was a small window of transport and trade quests, though often more dangerous, that made the crew a pretty penny. They were quite renowned at this point due to Veigar's immense knowledge of the lands, possessing information on all sorts of hidden passes and quick routes. And while he almost always seemed to put the group in precarious situations, their driver's skill and quick decision-making quite literally steered them out of danger time and time again.

This is how they found their current job, which was to transport some ancient heirlooms to a village to the south, over the mountains. An army led by an undead warmonger was pillaging villages further north, and their territory was expanding fast. A few Noxii tribes, fearing that they may one day be stamped out, hired the group to transport some priceless products of their culture to a closely guarded tomb that was being constructed to hold them safely.

Seeing as it was loosely tied to the war, Oberon was hesitant, however their pockets were running dry, and it seemed like a fairly safe trip, considering they were traveling away from the fight, to a safer location. He was able to haggle some additional benefits as well, such as free stay at the inns at their destination. Oberon proudly exclaimed that desperate customers are the best tippers soon after they exited the village.

However, Oberon had made a fatal mistake in judgement. When they arrived, flame and ruin surrounded by military tents was the only sight that awaited the group of travelers, as they were ambushed and forced to proceed. Accompanied by a mix of human guards and ghoulish soldiers, they were brought forth to what was left of the unfinished tomb which initially would house their product. The one who stood there to greet them was a towering figure, clad in hefty iron armor that must have weighed tons. A strange glow of pale green and white surrounded the being, which seemed to be all there was in place of a proper body. The image of him standing over ruin was more than enough to quickly strike fear into the hearts of the entire crew, including Oberon, who was desperately waiting for his next move.

"I welcome you to my newly constructed barracks. I apologize for the fresh ruin, as you arrived much ahead of schedule. As expected of the Oberon. I have heard the rumors, and you are even better than they say."

The deep, rumbling voice was that of a man's. It echoed throughout his steel shell of armor, vastly increasing his all-powerful aura. Oberon shifted his eyes around, looking for a hint; any kind of hint; at how they might escape. However, he was completely surrounded. Meanwhile, Fae was cowering inside of the wagon, holding both Veigar and Ruth close to make sure they stayed silent. He had no choice but to stall, until he could spot some sort of opening. Despite his frozen stature, fear touching every corner of his body, Oberon forced himself to speak confidently, as he always did.

"Mordekaiser, correct?"

"That is I."

"You aren't the client I agreed to meet with."

It was an obvious fact. But he had to open with something, and finding common ground would be a good start.

"Indeed. They are long dead, however I will take their goods in their stead. Is that acceptable?"

"Do you have adequate payment?"

Mordekaiser laughed, in his slow, baritone voice. It was loud and menacing, causing Oberon to take a few steps back. He lifted up the weapon he held at his side, a spiked mace, then stamped it back down into the ground, causing chunks of stone to crack and deform underneath. You could sense its massive weight simply from the sound of the ground crushing below it. It would be hard not to imagine it as the sounds of your own bones crunching under its massive head. However Oberon didn't have time to think, as his body was forcefully pulled down into a kneel, in time with the landing of the iron giant's mace. He felt the notion that there was nothing he could do at that point.

"I only pay with the salvation of death; however, it is a payment I deal generously."

"That won't buy me supplies for the month."

"Do not make jokes with me. You are a fool and will accept my offer, for you have no other choice."

"And if I don't?"

"Then your soul will serve in my army for eternity, in endless suffering. It is a strong, stubborn soul, so I will make good use of it."

He lifted his mace again, except this time, high above his head. Gearing to slam it right onto Oberon, he swung it downward. However, it stopped midair, unable to move.

"What is this!?"

Quickly, a flash of bright light appeared, stunning the senses of those surrounding, while Oberon was quickly tossed back into the cart. When the light had cleared, none other than Veigar appeared, knocking out the surrounding guards with magic. Though he still was far from able to proficiently use it, all his studies and practice couldn't have been in vain. He was sure of it.

Mordekaiser quickly broke free from the spacial manipulation Veigar had cast on him, but did not panic. He simply stood still, watching the battle between the yordle and his own soldiers unfold. It was a losing battle, and yet he put up quite a fight; casting spells at a quick rate, moving attackers away from him and binding them. The warmonger was impressed, recognizing his ability while in such desperation to save his companions. Finally, after holding them off for long enough, Veigar had sought to return to the caravan; however, it was already gone. They had escaped without him.

Veigar, suddenly in a panic, started taking heavy breaths. It took him time to register what happened. They left. They left me here. They left me behind. Behind. I'm going to die because they left me behind. His thoughts were scattered at first, but as they collected, he made a connection in his mind.

Lulu had left him behind, too.

Those who he had trusted were bound to turn their back on him. The only time he was able to trust somebody was when they hated him, because he could always predict their next move. With that thought, he turned to Mordekaiser. He felt like he couldn't be certain of anything in that moment, except for one; that he was doomed.

"Well well well… What an intriguing turn of events."

Mordekaiser stepped forward, the planting of his feet ringing echoes of destruction into the ground.

"And you... You are intriguing as well."

As he made his way closer to the speck of fur below him, Veigar had no hope left for himself. He fell to his knees, not by will of magic or force, but by his own corwardess. He had given up.

"You are weak, yes, but that has naught to do with your ability."

The yordle slowly lifted his head, curiosity piqued by the warmonger's words. How else could he be so weak if not by lack of ability?

"Your trust in others; your inability to act for yourself and only yourself; that is where your weakness lies."

He listened closely to Mordekaiser's words, but he couldn't properly contemplate them. He was still frozen with fear. Mordekaiser, though he could not smile, had a glint in his eye. He had thought of an interesting idea.

"You can use your magic to stop them, no? So why not do so? Do so now, for they intend to leave with what is mine."

Veigar didn't want his party to die. They had betrayed him, but he still wanted them to live. However, fear and hopelessness consumed him. He understood that there was a fate worse than death awaiting him if he did not comply, and so he did as he was told.

Not too far away, Oberon was out of breath, desperately cracking his whip at the beasts in front of him to gain speed. Then out of nowhere, his whole cart had suddenly ceased to move. There was no pothole, nor did they jerk forward from the force of the stop. They quickly and simply were still, unable to continue. What followed were many large, ghastly hands that slipped up from the ground and took hold of the cart, pulling it back from whence it came. A cold shiver enveloped the party members as they soon returned to Mordekaiser's presence, struck with an even greater fear than the one they had felt initially. Not from Mordekaiser, but from the small, hopeless being standing in front of him, eye devoid of life. Not dead, but hopeless. This was their doing; their fault. Fae began to cry, while Oberon stayed silent.

"Welcome back."

"I'm sorry, Veigar… I'm- I'm so, so sorry..."

"Lay them down, right in front of me here."

Ignoring her pleas, Veigar did as he was told, lifting their magic-bound bodies and moving them to Mordekaiser. It was only Oberon and Fae. Ruth must have escaped at some point. He didn't make mention of it.

"Now…"

Mordekaiser walked over to the wagon, and bashed it with his mace. It fell like a house of straw, revealing the crates there were inside. He proceeded to drop his weapon and open one of them, revealing a bright, magical glow, similar in color to his own. After confirming its contents, he brought it back to Veigar and upturned it, letting the contents hit the ground one by one. It was completely full of magic-imbued weapons; guns, knives, swords, arrows. But Oberon nor Fae were surprised. The only one whose eyes went wide were Veigar.

Mordekaiser picked a knife up with his massive claws to examine.

"These were their secret weapons against me. They trap the souls of any that they come into contact with inside of them for eternity. Dangerous toys, they are."

Oberon stayed silent, but Fae interjected through her tears.

"W- wait! We didn't know those were there! The crates were sealed with magic, so we couldn't open them!"

"And that is what makes you a fool. But I, am no fool."

Mordekaiser's iron helmet creaked as it turned to meet Oberon's averted eyes.

"You have two among you who can use magic. But, just one of them is able to see through solid materials if he so pleases. This is not your first rodeo, no? Oberon."

Veigar looked down to the ground and covered his ears. He was on the brink of losing his mind. First they had turned tail on him, and now this? He was scared to onlook; scared that he was unable to move his body; scared of what he might hear if he kept listening; scared of what might happen if he kept trying to bear such heavy revelations. He had let himself, even for a minute, think that he was part of something bigger; part of somebody else's world. This was beyond Oberon, or Fae, or even. Everybody must have been like this. If somebody was nice to you, they always had ulterior motives. Right?

That's the conclusion that the little helpless yordle was beginning to come to. He looked up, just for a moment; his curiosity got the better of him. And immediately, as if on queue, Fae spoke again.

"It- it was Veigar! He convinced us to take this quest, even though we didn't want to! Oberon would never get involved in war! R- right Oberon?!"

She was falling apart too. It was clear she was lying, and even she knew it. But in desperation, the girl had said the unthinkable. She wanted to live. Oberon meanwhile, stayed silent. She looked toward him, desperate for a response. But none came.

"Oberon? Hey-"

"BE QUIET!"

Veigar spoke. His throat was dry and his voice croaked, yet he yelled as loud as he possibly could.

"Please. Be quiet…"

Everybody fell silent.

Mordekaiser was pleased beyond belief. He hadn't expected such great entertainment to befall him. He had crushed the only plan that the Noxii had against him too, but that seemed pale in comparison to the greater treasure that lay before him. He didn't know what this little, magical creature was, but what he had confidence in, was that such a being of such potential power was in the palm of his hand; somebody that could be manipulated to do his bidding and do it well. He would make this so-called "Veigar" his greatest asset.

Veigar heard a noise to his right; it was the clink of metal against stone. The knife that Mordekaiser had picked up was now beside him, as if it was calling to him. The being behind him then spoke, and his ears perked up so that he could listen closely.

"Kill them both with this knife; then I shall grant you your life, and your freedom."

Suddenly, the yordle felt his pulse rise. His breathing sped, and his heart began to pound.

Thump Thump

Revenge. His mind was suddenly filled with that single thought. He could not move; he was still frozen in fear. And yet, Veigar's body still began to move. His right arm reached forward and picked up the glowing weapon. He could feel its power in his palm.

Thump Thump

Veigar's eyes shifted quickly to their necks, then their chests, then their eyes, then stomachs. Where should he stab? What would be least painful? What would be most painful? Suddenly, he realized that he was already thinking about committing murder.

Thump Thump

In thinking, he realized a few other things. Oberon was sweating profusely, his face red as a beet. Fae, however, was screaming out for her dear life. She was scared to die, just as he had been moments before. But now the power; the choice to betray them and live; was in his hands.

Thump Thump

Suddenly, he thought to grab his own neck. He couldn't feel his pulse… or could he? Was he dead? Was it too fast to properly gauge? Was it his heartbeat? He was so overwhelmed that he couldn't tell. He wasn't even breathing anymore; only gasping for air.

Thump Thump

He threw the knife down onto the ground.

And then, his senses came back to him and his brittle knees failed him. Veigar fell backwards onto his bottom, scared of himself; scared of everything. He desperately tried to regulate his breathing, so that he could begin to think straight again.

"I-"

He was still panting.

"I can't kill them."

"Disappointing."

Mordekaiser sighed, but Veigar had still done enough to assure him that he had made the right decision.

"You will be coming with me, then."

Mordekaiser quickly scooped the yordle up, who happened to fit quite nicely in his closed palm, small and curled up as he was. It also helped that he didn't seem to struggle or protest. He left the two prisoners behind him, who had just realized that Veigar had already let go of their bindings.

"We- we're free to go?"

"You simply are not worth my time."

The ironclad giant stomped in the opposite direction, planning to take the yordle back to his fortress. Fae stood up, dragging Oberon up with her, but he wouldn't budge. He simply looked to the ground in anguish, taking heavy breaths. Fae was calling his name, but she was interrupted by the ghastly hands which rose from the ground once again, taking hold of the both of them.

Veigar covered his ears again, oblivious to the screams and cries that started behind him as he was carried away. On the contrary, they were music to Mordekaiser's ears. He seemed to be in a good mood today.