Bilgewater was known for its unscrupulous pirates, filthy ways of life, and the finest rum in Runeterra- items which a fine lady or gentleman wished to drown in the bloody waters below. Few items of value ever wandered into the city and even fewer left, yet there was one fortune which the chain of islands could not mar.
The treasure was born on the mild tides of Buhru where it was cloaked in a veil of functional beauty and baked under an unblinking sun. No amount of polishing could add an an ounce of beauty to an already perfect creation and no cloudy day could hide the light which shone through the rustic disguise. Powers bent on devouring elegance would be starved, for this treasure was seasoned by the salt of the sea and would taste bitter when applied to the life of one who was not in motion.
Those who believed in a smiling god believed in nothing at all. They spoke to dead idols and fell at the feet of painted wood to plead for things already in their grasp. Their meaningless lives dragged on in the undertow of wave makers, scraping and scratching along the obstacles designed to toughen them up.
Illaoi was not like stagnant believers, she was a priestess chosen by She who stayed in motion. When her god called, there was no debate of whether or not to answer. The path was clear and to heed Her voice was to be in motion. It was her duty to bring all to judgment on Runeterra. Sails could carry Illaoi as far as the ocean stretched and where the ocean could not reach, the Nagakaburos would guide her precious treasure.
A town in much need of a miracle allied itself with the tides and brought a focused believer to its shores.
"Watch where you swing that, woman."
Illaoi lifted her arm to address the surly voice coming from under her elbow. It was none other than Mast, the man who struck his former pirate down with, well, the mast of his own ship. Bilgewater left much to be desired in the way or names, but simplicity was saved for identification and complexity for the art of pilfering.
"If you go on with that ugly attitude of yours, no one will ever lay eyes on your face again." She pounded his back heartily and laughed. His expression shifted and an uneasy smile could be seen amid the remaining teeth he had. Decay of both his morals and hygiene had seen to the state of his inner and outer appearance, but he was a man who was living by an unseen code he had written himself. Somewhere docked on this particular harbor was his skimmer, the Rift Splitter, an ironic name for a ship who was almost cleft in two, and he doted upon his hunk of wood as a proud mother hen.
"Are you here to drink with the best of us or judge the worst of us, Priestess?" Mast hawked and spat into his empty cup. Illaoi pretended she didn't notice the tooth which accompanied the saliva. Instead, she shifted the weight of her totem and rested it on an unoccupied barstool.
"My god moves in mysterious ways," she ignored his scoff and continued. "I'm here for a ride."
It was only 2 in the afternoon, far too early for most to get drunk under the table, but late enough for a few early birds to get a jump on their evening activities. This particular tavern was one of the regions busiest; therefore, the chances of finding trouble or being found by it were very high. Besides Illaoi and Mast there were a few others in the Kraken's Maw. Unfortunately none were who Illaoi had come for.
"A ride? I've got a special r-" His lewd reply was cut short by a swift slug to the jaw.
"Learn this lesson once and you'll be on your way to true enlightenment, boy. My god may smile favorably upon you, but I do not." The woman and her totem disappeared to another corner of the establishment.
Several hours passed and more than once Illaoi got up to stretch her legs and chat with old acquaintances, all the while keeping an eye out for the one the Nagakabuoros had called her to elicit help from.
At half past 9 her patience was rewarded.
The din in Kraken's Maw was reaching a fever pitch- an average for a night such as this. Alcohol ran like blood and it never seemed to stop, not even when a bottle was broken over the head of a patron. Hands groped wildly in the smokey lighting, sometimes connecting with glass and other times ass. Debauchery was a very close friend of booze.
The crowd around the door parted to let a large man through. He thumped a few men and women on the back, much to their drunken delight, and pushed his way through the crowd. He moved like a fish swimming upstream: wriggling and pushing his body towards the chipped and gouged counter.
"Gragas," she threw a muscled arm around his shoulder and squeezed tightly.
"What in the- Illaoi? Illaoi!" It was as if dawn was breaking across his face. His eyes lit up and what mangled teeth remained formed a smile. However, his smile was quickly lost under a cloud of suspicion. "What're you doing in here? Aren't holy men- er, and women- supposed to, uh..." He gestured vaugely in the limited space around him.
"Sobriety is for those who can't hold their drinks."
The woman working behind the counter loudly cursed as she carried a child-sized barrel of ale to Gragas. Alcohol sloshed over the rim as she set it down and scurried off to take care of another order.
"It appears as though I may need your help," Illaoi began. She watched the connoisseur sip, then grimace... and sip again. He hardly looked like he was paying attention. "I said, I could use your help, Gragas." She slammed a hand over his cup before he could take another drink.
"Huh? You need my what, now?"
"Your help. More specifically, your ship. I know you're... busy... Yeah, busy, finding your perfect brew, but I need your boat. Nagakabouros has called me to the north and has provided me with a ride." Here she looked pointedly into the eyes of her friend.
"Your god is in awful needy, isn't she? She's particularly lacking in manners and money, because this boat doesn't run on friendship alone." He grumbled and tried to move her hand, but Illaoi refused to be moved.
"Do not speak of her like she cannot hear you." The eye totem glowed ominously. "Let me board your boat and you'll have your money."
She gave him a once-over and hit his arm playfully. A moment later she was pushing her way to the exit.
"Hmph. All the women here are so bossy." Gragas muttered and lost himself amid the craze of the Kraken's Maw.
Dawn was supposed to be the reset button for the dark side of the world. A time in which healing and restoration could patch the wounds inflicted by the previous day, where broken dreams could sail away as new ones arrived full of vim and vigor.
It was too bad that applied everywhere except Bilgewater.
The first milky rays of dawn hovered above the chain of islands and refused to settle on filthy rooftops. Something slithered wetly under the docks and splashed back into its watery home.
Gragas was in a foul mood. The Rot-Eye brandy he drank the previous night was not agreeing with his stomach at all. When he had stumbled out of the tavern around three in the morning; his eyes were swimming with tears from a joke he could hardly remember. Didn't matter. What did matter to him was where that bossy, rock lugging, no good-
"Anything else you'd like to add? Maybe blind worshipper or hard hitting bitch? You think out loud when you're drunk... And by the looks of it, you're very."
The bag Illaoi threw down jangled loudly in the dead air and in his aching head. He winced and licked his dry lips. If he had to be up, then he would make the most of his time so he could get back to sleep.
Gragas hefted the bag onto his shoulder and began walking towards a shadowy lump. Weak sunlight had begun to seesaw through the heavy mist; they balanced between this plane of existence, then the next, and back again. Their only audience on this dark walkway were the creaks and moans of boards long neglected.
The owner of the said transportation gingerly pulled the tarp back and turned to his lone passenger. "You better have a good reason to want to leave so early in the morning."
"I have my reasons."
"And my payment, right?"
"Of course, I'm not a deadbeat. I'm not a robber either." A shaft of sunlight lazily swung across her face before continuing its slow journey back into the mist. She rolled her eyes and dug around in the folds of her pants.
"Whew, I spent all night worrying whether you were going to rob me blind." His sarcasm was lost because Illaoi was no longer beside him.
"Is this enough?" A bag, smaller than the first, landed with a shing at his feet. He scooped it up and heard the sound of coins rolling over one another. A puzzled look crossed his face. This was more than enough to cover passage to and from wherever Illaoi wanted to go on Runeterra. Almost too much.
"What're you planning to- oh, you've gotten your bag already? Okay. Uh, I guess just tell me where to go..." He watched her scale back up the gangplank - which she had lowered- and look around the deck. Apparently she liked what she saw. The priestess turned back to him and grinned.
"You can go wherever you like. You've already been too kind, now my god will take over from here."
He caught the tail end of the rope as it shivered and whipped from the over the side of his ship. Dumbfounded, he watched his ship- his favorite ship- slowly begin to turn away from the shores of Bilgewater.
"W... Wh..." He stood for a moment, confused. "My ship. My ship?" He shook his fist after the retreating woman. A musical jingle accompanied his efforts and suddenly he recalled the bag of coins he had in his hand.
Two meaty fingers pulled out a coin and held it to the faint light. Gragas gasped and poured the rest of the money into his large hands. Whoever Illaoi's god was, she paid her acolyte handsomely. Perhaps one of these days he would enter a temple and see who this nagaka-whatever-you-call-it was and get on her good side... Then again with this much gold coins he could start a new religion if he wanted. He could start anything!
With that, he stuffed the gold into his deep pockets and disappeared into the coming morning.