Idea: Every evil spell caster secretly loves Vayne. Comedy.
The Night Hunter is coughing and panting, her appendages heavy like iron bars, Shauna's ebony woven ponytail coiled around her collapsed form like some kind of dark slain snake. The pale huntress is racking her brain for a solution, a means of escape. A way out of this wretched mess before things got even more out of control and proved lethal for her. But sadly enough, all that Vayne can register right now is just how her pained body is splayed like a lifeless shot bird across the hard cobblestone, with her back against the smooth rock and her limbs outstretched in four random directions like a dying eagle.
All that Shauna can see are the tall threatening shadows of the witches that are leisurely approaching her. All that Vayne can hear at this point is her heartbeat pumping against her eardrums and the loud bickering of the dark spell casters.
Fuck! Galio, Bane of Spell Casters, why had she even thought it a good idea to rattle this nest of those serpents unprepared?
"Did you kill them?" A feminine voice asks, the footsteps of the four living humanoid shadows now reverberating against the aching scalp of the powerless Night Hunter.
"Of course not, Elise! I know that we need to interrogate the intruder. I am not an imbecile! I simply sent some of my Dark Orbs flying in their direction in order to disarm them."
"What kind of sorceress are you if you can't even control the power of your spells, Syndra?" Another woman drawls in an icy undertone. Those bickering comments however seem to make the second woman snap in mere seconds.
"My potential is limitless!" Suddenly snaps angrily the second female spell caster, the tone of the arrogant woman's voice suddenly echoing inside Vayne's head due to the enormous amount of magic swirling around the body of the vile black witch. And Shauna's attempt to lift her weak heaving body from the damp slippery stone fails dramatically when another dark orb abruptly collides with Vayne's chest, sending the Night Hunter spiraling further into the threatening inky darkness.
"Wait, this intruder looks familiar." A fourth and more commanding voice somehow reaches the ringing ears of the currently writhing Demacian blue-blood. Winded from the last magical attack and with her already blurry vision diming and brightening of its own accord every few seconds, the defeated brooding huntress doesn't react when someone turns her around roughly with their boot impacting her side.
A sudden gasp is heard when Evaine LeBlanc unexpectedly comes face to face with the grimacing, very pained visage of the infamous Night Hunter.
"I-it is Shauna Vayne!" The shocked Deceiver instantly cries out in sheer horror and respective surprised gasps are at once drawn out from the concealed lips of the other three cloaked figures. The gathering of black witches seemingly startled upon realizing the truth of just who they had just attacked and managed to defeat so effortlessly. And the panting Night Hunter would have undoubtedly proceeded to dance about in glee at the fear her mere name had brought to these evil spell casters, if it wasn't for the little fact that she was currently busy coughing out her aching lungs and trying not to throw up in front of her would-be murderers.
"Did she?... Did Hunter-sama say anything about me? D-does she hate me now? Quickly! Tell her that attacking her was just an accident! Tell her that she looks a lot taller in person!" The arrogant second witch now panics as she hurriedly rushes to kneel on the damp cobblestone next to Vayne's prone form. And the wounded huntress can't be really sure with all the lights and dots that are currently flickering over her nose, but this abstract and hazy painting of a face that's muttering nonsense so close to her, looks... oddly familiar...
That last bit was certainly weird since Shauna hadn't visited a gallery or spared a glance at a non demon-possessed portrait since... Well, since forever, actually.
"Calm down, Syndra." Agitatedly hisses Evaine LeBlanc as she glares at the other woman with an annoyed pair of amber-colored eyes. "You are scaring Shauna-poo! Give the good hunter a little breathing space. Let's let her catch her breath and sooth her heartbeat before introductions take place." The sinister scheming witch pauses in order to flash Vayne a small, not quite reassuring smile.
"Anyway," Evaine LeBlanc then continues. "Just how many dark orbs did you send her way, Syndra? Shauna-poo is barely breathing at this point!"
"Then maybe we should be actually helping her instead of exchanging insults like immature children that are fighting over a doll." The icy voice from before suddenly states as Lissandra abruptly emerges from the shadows and kneels down at the other side of Shauna Vayne. The pale spell caster then cups the Night Hunter's cheek with her porcelain hand almost affectionately, and Shauna merely blinks, utterly stunned when she unexpectedly finds the Ice Witch's cool touch somewhat pleasant instead of frigid cold like she had always assumed it to be.
The wheezing Night Hunter is even more awestruck when instead of striking her, Lissandra starts gently stroking her slowly bruising, hurt cheekbone.
"Let's perform CPR on her." The Freljordian woman suddenly states and a pair of icy glasses shockingly appear on the cunning witch's face making Lissandra seem like a gorgeous pragmatic intellectual out of a romance manga.
"W-what?" The powerless Demacian woman manages to cough out gruffly from the damp cobblestone. Vayne hadn't even noticed that the Iceborn woman wasn't wearing her black imposing helmet this time, or that if she did, the Freljordian conspirator wouldn't be able to wear the ebony hood that was currently concealing part of her… blushing face?
But then again, perhaps Shauna was just seeing things. Perhaps the reason for Vayne's slow reactions and faulty present perception of reality had something to do with the fact that she was still splayed on the floor of a secret catacomb with three evil women spluttering nonsense around her bruised body!
"CPR?" Elise finally voices as the heinous, dreaded Spider Queen finally decides to emerge from the shadows much like Lissandra. And the Night Hunter almost smiles at the hostility held in the spider-cultist's tone.
Halleluiah! A-normal-psychopathic-shapeshifting-acolyte-of-an-undead-spider-god-that-grants-its-believers-immortality-through-human-sacrifice, at last! Shauna thinks. No dark witches giving her cutish nicknames! Powerful evil Sovereigns shyly fidgeting under her gaze and corrupted pale Freljordian beauties giddily caressing her stinging hurt visage! Vayne would never have expected to ever say this, but, 'Finally! A genuine cruel rival that genuinely wanted to gut her and then kill her!'
"And why do you think that I will let you mouth-to-mouth my cuddly huntress, Ice Bitch! Vayne is mine! All mine, to marry and love and to cherish!" Snarls at once Shauna's final genuine cruel rival with literal poison coloring her voice and something small, precious and important violently snaps inside the Night Hunter.
'What in Teemo's crooked horns is going on in here! What the fuck is wrong with these crazy witches! Was this fiendish Coven trying to make her look like the bad person here?! Were these cunning, deceiving women trying to make it seem like she had always been the bad one all along while they were simply lonely misunderstood individuals?! Where those venomous snakes trying to force her to pick a new and more popular profession?! That's heresy! And-
… Why the fuck was Lissandra still stroking her cheekbone and blushing like a love-struck schoolgirl whilst averting her eyes! Why in the nine-'
Her wristbow, where was her freaking wristbow when Vayne needed it? Why were all the witches present still yelling to each other about love confessions and CPR? Vayne doesn't need CPR! What she needs is her damn wristbow!
"Fine!" Evaine LeBlanc, the sinister voice of reason finally dictates all authority, grace and dignified pose. "Let's make sure that Shauna-poo's life isn't in danger first, and then we can decide on the kisse- …er, I meant the helper."
Probably scarred for life due to the events that took place until now, the Night Hunter quietly stares at the Deceiver with a somewhat lifeless, deadpan expression plastered on her face. "What is the point of performing CPR on me if my life is NOT in danger, Deceiver?" Vayne cynically asks the evil witch.
LeBlanc's face instantly flushes red. The older black-haired woman coughing awkwardly on her sweaty fist while simultaneously averting her brilliant amber gaze.
"Practical reasons, I can assure you, Shauna-po... I meant, Night Hunter... Your respiratory system might have suffered some damage during our fight! We wouldn't want you dying by accident now. Would we, Miss Vayne?"
Shauna wouldn't really mind... Plus, great! And now Evaine was calling this ludicrous fiasco of her stumbling upon four powerful witches in the dark, a fight wishing not to hurt her feelings.
'This is a new low Shauna.. A new low even for you.' The wounded huntress muses with bitterness inside her head. 'Perhaps you truly should consider changing profession.' Vayne childishly grumbles deep in thought as an abundance of Syndra's dark spheres lazily gather below the Demacian's body and then lift her up in the air with a slow and considerate motion.
'They won't even lift me up with a sharp, jerky motion? Truly? Just who the fuck are these guys, Santa Bard's little helpers?' The Demacian noble continues grumbling pathetically inside her brain even as the magical stretcher gently floats forward into the looming darkness.
"Don't worry, Shauna." Lissandra nearly silently whispers from her spot on the left side of the makeshift stretcher. "I will use my naked body to cool down yours just in case your condition deteriorates and you develop a high fever."
Shauna proceeds to repetitively slam the back of her head against the uneven surface of her hovering stretcher. Each monotonous, dull thud of flesh hitting dense, concentrated magic emphasized by a furious quietly mouthed word flying out of the brooding pale woman's mouth.
"Where" *Bump*
"The"* Thud*
"Fuck" *Bump*
"Is. My. Fucking. Wristbow!"
*Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Bump* *Thud*
"Is that Shauna over there!?"
Dazed by the unrelenting assault of her own doing, Vayne only raises her head a bit when the familiar high-pitched voice of another spell caster abruptly rings across the almost complete darkness of the secret underground catacombs.
Shauna first identifies the figure as Luxanna Crownguard, a fellow Demacian and a potential ally in these trying times. Secondly, she realizes that young Luxanna is presently wearing her Elementalist outfit and more specifically a weird gothic Lolita dress alongside a tiara of an ominous dark purple color... Lastly Vayne let's her head fall back on the hard mattress of Syndra's pulsating spheres with a dull thud after the brooding, pale injured huntress suddenly perceives that the light mage is apparently wearing a white t-shirt with her face printed on it over her other peculiar garbs. The design of said t-shirt being a simple one where Shauna's brooding visage is encased in a giant scarlet heart consisting of a string of red letters spelling, 'I heart Vayne' over and over and over until the heart symbol is formed quite distinctively.
"I.. I.. Mean." Lux then hastily stutters in embarrassment, the light mage's face burning red. "Boohoo, boring! W-who cares if Shauna is hurt or here in ACTUAL TOUCHING DISTANCE! Squeee!- Cough, cough! I mean.. it-it's not like I lo-love her or anything! Y-you big spell casting idiots!"
"Just kill me." Shauna tiredly whispers towards the catacomb's cobweb-filled ceiling. The courageous Night Hunter very nearly bursting in tears when Evaine LeBlanc of all people completely misunderstands her desperate plea for help and instead responds by lightly squeezing one of the huntress' calloused weak palms reassuringly.
"It's alright, Shauna-poo. We are almost there now. When we arrive at the Coven I will personally make sure that all of your injuries are treated sufficiently. I am prepared to inspect your entire naked body inch by inch if I have to, in order to find out the severity of your battle wounds, of course. Old and new wounds, that is. One can never be too careful when treating injuries these days."
The Deceiver then plants a quick soothing kiss on Shauna's temple and Vayne is regrettably too mentally exhausted and physically weak to push LeBlanc away from her, or better yet, to attempt biting the dark witch's nose off before it is too late and Evaine is back at a safe distance.
One by one more female figures start appearing around the magical stretcher, the sinister newcomers' surprised delighted whispers polluting the sunless catacombs with their immense joy. The exhausted Night Hunter tries to sleep, hoping that maybe if her attempts are successful she might be finally able to wake up from this.. this wretched nightmare.
The wary injured Demacian's eyes slowly close, and the last thing that Shauna sees before she is asleep are magnificent nude murals of herself decorating the ceiling of the catacombs and two equally nude golden statues carefully chiseled into her likeness standing guards over a giant opening door.
Vayne scowls even in her sleep. The brooding noble's mind finally catching up with the golden forms she had previously witnessed before sleeping.
There are only a few minute details wrong in the golden statues of the Night hunter. One of them being the bizarre ammunition that's loaded on her signature crossbows. The strange projectiles of the statues being too big to fly straight at a long distance, while the edges of the replacement crossbow bolts being too round and dare she say phallic? to do any real damage to an actual foe in combat. Vayne is pretty sure that all of those weird bumpy-thingies that are running across the entire lengths of the crossbow bolts' thick shafts are just there for decorative purposes and serve little to no function at all.
The sculptor has also gotten her face wrong, Vayne dully notes even as the unconscious Demacian woman continues absentmindedly strangling a normal evil Evaine LeBlanc in the land of blessed dreams and logic. The golden statues are doing that weird thing with their lips. Yes, they are smiling.
Day 14. I am bored enough to write this story. And also: Warning: Mandatory sexy Teeto time.
"Sister Teemonia?" Abruptly breathes out a dark edgy version of Janna that's wearing a revealing skimpy black dress along with copious amounts of mascara and eyeliner, small crimson blades sewed on near the edges of the long fabrics that float around the rogue wind mage's thin waist. Janna's once platinum blonde hair now dyed a moderately attractive shade of dark red instead.
Sister Teemonia raises her head from the bosom of a moaning Sister Ahri.
"Yes?" The short yordle witch curiously asks, her paws still stroking the raven-haired Vastayan witch's plump flesh. Janna notices that one of Sister Teemonias fake eyelashes is a little out of place, her fellow sister's weirdly textured mop of blonde hair that smells of cleaning chemicals slightly unruly due to the yordle witch's activities.
"I have just been wondering, fellow Sister. Why is it that when the Coven members practice intercourse on each other so we can hopefully pleasure our goddess, Vayne one day, you keep your clothes on during the entire act?" Asks the curious redhead.
Janna's sky blue orbs then lower from Teemonia's face. "Also, what is this huge bulge between your legs that steadily keeps growing when we touch or kiss you?"
"..."
Teemo loudly sniffles as he looks at Janna with fake remorse.
"That's my tail, Sister Janna. I am a half Vastayan from my father's side, and to make matters worse I was born with my tail being backwards."
Ahri gasps at the horror of Teemonia's tragic tale, the shorter yordle witch's face obviously overwhelmed by remorse. Teemonia still attempts to smile at her Coven sisters though.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know." Janna attempts to reassure the poor female yordle. Teemonia offers the wind mage a shaky smile as she grabs Janna's hand in her small furry paw.
"I don't want you or our sisters to see such a thing, dear Janna. I am really ashamed of my deformed lower body." Sister Teemonia confesses. Janna and Ahri instantly rushing to hug the poor tormented girl, and Teemo sniffles just a bit more as he slyly glances at the formerly blonde wind mage with concealed devious eyes while rubbing his hidden perverted grin in her bosom.
"P-perhaps… there is a way that you and Ahri can help me though, Sister Janna.. No.. I shouldn't have said that." Teemonia hurriedly retracts her last words as if she is hesitant and truly uncertain. "Please, just forget about it."
"Tell us how, dear Sister? Just tell us the way to help you and we will, I promise you. Ahri and I just want you to be happy like us while we are waiting for the arrival of Vayne." Teemonia masks her initial snort with another weird sniffle, her grinning furry face still hidden in Janna's soft bosom. Yeah, right, as if the brooding Night Hunter would ever bother dealing with that sexy crazy lot.
"Perhaps if you two stroke my tail over my skirt, treat it with care and love and affection ...I might at some point start believing that my tail isn't such a disgusting filthy thing that I have to hide. Perhaps IF you do such a thing for me, I may find in myself the confidence to believe that Vayne might also love me, the ugly monster... one day…
"Like this?" Asks Janna as she starts gently rubbing Teemo's huge bulge and after mere second Ahri's hands also join her.
"Yes, exactly like that." Teemonia grins fiendishly as she starts folding the breasts of the poor naive wind mage.
"Sister, what kind of Vastayan are you?" Ahri suddenly asks with apparent interest.
"A scorpion Vastayan, my cute little vixen." Teemonia readily replies as she puts a fat cigar on her lopsided smirking lips. She then cracks the two Vayne-love acolytes another deceivingly charming smile. A glass of whiskey somehow appearing on the disguised male yordle's other hand "So keep doing what you are doing until my tail spits out the poison, my dears." Teemo lecherously orders the two naive witches.