Short snippet inspired by the Sentinels of Light event.
The once magnificent chandeliers shook as dust fell down from the ceiling in thick white plumes, and the cries of the innocent shifted behind the shattered window panes like skittish rodents scattering at the sound of footsteps. A choir of crazy laughter and indescribable howls sweeping through the hallways of the breached palace, echoing within bloodstained chambers and seeping underneath the gaping slits of dark dungeon doors.
A great, deafening noise of extravagant proportions could be heard every once in a while as another mighty tower crumbled down like an old dead tree, the brave defenders of Demacia spilling out of it as they grasped at black misty air like sailors flapping overboard in the midst of a deadly thunderstorm.
And as the undead buried the living, flooding the streets and the marketplaces in a tide of hate and bestial fury, a long-lost king traversed the deserted hallways of the heart of Demacia.
Viego, a man poisoned by love and regret strolled under the dripping white banners which had been dyed a crimson red just a few moments prior. The black mist clinging to his skin of cold alabaster and shadows festering from an open hole in his bared chest, a crown of curses set upon his head resting atop a cascading river of white hair.
Viego didn't notice the cries and the howls ringing in everyone else's ears. His heart didn't weep at the scenes of the massacres he visited, scenes he had caused himself through his selfishness and his refusal to accept that his love was lost forever. Impassive and utterly unflinching, he ignored the blood squelching underneath his feet. He simply paid no mind to the sights of stained rooms and lonely burlap dolls, the deflated forms lying at his feet, and the unmoving arms clenching at unsheathed swords smeared with tar-like ichor found everywhere in the palace.
Whenever he stared at a torn portrait hanging sideways besides a curled up still figure, Viego only wondered if the person depicted in the ruined artwork was his missing queen. At times he would hear a woman cry out for mercy as shades darker than black descended upon her to rip her apart like a pack of hungry laughing hyenas, and the lonely king would merely wish that the voice he had heard was beautiful Isolde's.
So detached from reality Viego was, so tremendously blind to his surroundings, that when the liliputian creature rose up from the floor in a swirling torrent of sulfur and flame, the Ruined King simply glared at his shorter equal. His spectral blade lunged forward to put an end to the smirking distraction. The tip of the long, wicked blade piercing the air flickering and glimmering, pale like loss and green like envy. A golden trident forged in hellfire caught the tip of the sword mid-way to its target and held it there like a marshmallow held on a pointy stick.
High-pitched snickering engulfed the deserted stone chamber, the logs in the fireplace were abruptly set ablaze and tall shadows climbed over the walls. They too snickered and smirked, those grotesque laughing shadows. And they swayed playfully like dancing snakes as they reached heights untold. Laughing and crawling, shuddering and shivering, but always laughing, shakings their heads in perfect synch with the strange red creature, who grinning, shook its furry head at the pale king.
"Nice sword pretty boy, but size doesn't mean everything, and not everybody deserves be a king." Teemo spoke, his words bees that stung Viego's eardrums. The little devil's voice seemed to bounce all around him, coming from the grinning shadows perched on the scarred walls and emanating from every single spot in the room at once. The words reverberating inside the chamber, and within Viego's unhinged mind -and mystifyingly enough- rising up from the dry blood marring the Ruined King's cold, spectral blade.
"You want your queen back, and I want to conquer the world. Let's skip the pleasantries and talk business, your Highness," Teemo's lips curled slightly and the grins of the shadows stretched beyond what was advisable, splitting their faces in a show of panting black triangles and lashing tongues. Their mouths opening, gaping like chasms, gargling and gagging on the hovering miasma of Viego's black mist, the fire in the fireplace blazing brilliantly like a blinding red star. And then, just as suddenly as the flames had jumped towards the ceiling nearly breaking free from the blackened confines of the fireplace, the crackling fire was suddenly gone.
Viego was left in the dark with the smiling devil as the embers of the fire slowly lost their cherry luster. The chorus of laughing shadows abruptly fell silent, two sinister yellow orbs sliding open in the darkness.
"Ahhh…much better."