The dice do be a-rolling.
Ruination: Return Chapter XIX
Fool's Errand Part III
"Lucian, my boy, take a seat," Tahm states, "Let's deal."
"What is-" Graves begins, shooting a skeptical look at Lucian, "What do you owe him?!"
Lucian looks at Graves, confused and slightly offended, and Tahm Kench laughs.
"Your dear commander doesn't owe me a thing," Tahm comforts. "I am here to attempt to forge a mutually beneficial agreement between us."
"No such thing with the Two-Coats," Pyke states, materializing behind Yasuo and looking around at the others, "Y'all ready to let him hang himself yet?"
Ezreal shakes his head, paling slightly as the demon looks his way, his eyes immediately averting.
"The Bloodharbor Ripper!" Tahm exclaims, throwing his arms wide, "When this whole Ruination business has completed, we should have a conversation."
"What do you want, Azakana?!" Yasuo demands.
"My dear boy," Tahm states, flicking his eyes to him, the air suddenly growing even more humid, "Do not compare me to those scavengers. My palette is far more refined."
"What do you want?" Lucian asks, drawing the demon's attention back to him.
"So very much," Tahm states, "But in this instance, to help you, so you can help me."
"Why? How?" Lucian presses.
"Don't mistake my being here for any kind of altruism. No, no, you Sentinel types are far too sharp for that," Tahm states, "It's because I am starving. Now, please, gents, take a seat."
With a wave of his hand, the seats shifted backward.
"Now, I can't interpolate exactly where the information about this devious little doodad has gone, but my best guess is that Boss Bug down below likely squirreled it away after he dismantled your fellows for being "dissident outsiders," Tahm Kench remarks, chuckling darkly.
"Speak more plainly," Yasuo demands.
"The great entity that tried to scatter you to bits thinks of Ixtal as his personal property, whole part, and parcel," Tahm Kench explains, "The Sentinels weren't his people, not all of them, and oh, you lot wouldn't know how to bend the knee for nothing!"
"Now the base here in Ixtal was the biggest cross all Shurima. The Mountainfolk had their own powers to trust in, and the Shurimans scoffed at your founder's mission, "A Tyrant bound to a blade; we have faced dozens and risen above them' they decried. Only here in Ixtal did they find acceptance amongst the people, but not its ruler. Yet, they stayed for a time, growing and expanding, until well… ask your blue tattooed friend about a little thing called the Rune Wars." Tahm finishes, licking his lips, "Lot of good memories from all that."
"So where does that leave us?" Ezeal asks, looking at Lucian, still attempting to avoid eye contact with the grinning demon.
Lucian looks a bit lost, and Tahm answers the question for him, "I didn't invite you all here just to drawl on like a puffed-up professor. The Bug has warded his domain well against my ilk, but that doesn't mean I can't ferry you there. After all… I know these riverways better than he ever did, being neighbors as we were."
"And all you want in exchange for this is… Viego humiliated?' Lucian demands, looking at him fully for the first time.
"He muscled in on my territory as I said," Tahm growls, "And there is nothing I dislike more than sharing my meals, and he has taken more than his fair share by fathoms."
"Then you have a deal," Lucian states, sticking out his hand to shake before the others can say anything.
"You damn fool," Pyke growls, though he makes no movement to stop him.
Yasuo and Ezreal open their mouths to speak, but it is too late, as Tahm's meaty claw wraps around Lucian's hand.
The demon rises out of the water, and it rises with him, spilling out of the banks and swallowing their legs up to their knees.
"I expect you to make good on this," Tahm warns, but then he laughs, sounding genuine for the first time in the conversation, "But I doubt you would need much prompting regardless."
Lucian nods.
"Right, on your way you go," Tahm states, releasing Lucian's hand and clapping his together, "You might feel a bit of a pinch, but what's a nibble between new business partners."
"What the f—" Graves begins, and he is wrenched down, somehow vanishing completely in the knee-high water.
Pyke is next, soundlessly.
Then Ezreal, who yelps and reaches out for Lucian.
Then Yasuo, who goes for his blade while glaring daggers at Lucian.
And then Lucian, who looks up to see Tahm gone and then feels a pair of wide-fanged jaws bite his shins, and he is wrenched into the murky water, the realization of all he had just done seeming to strike him in that moment as his face vanishes beneath the water.
Nidalee could smell them, the rancid, empty things that had once been vibrant and beautiful.
She skids to a halt, looking down and seeing her camp in utter disarray.
Her kin and the varied jungle folk that had flocked to her protection were putting up a hearty defense, but the Mist was a dreadful and insidious predator.
Every defender that faltered became another claw at their allies' throats.
She looks back for a moment, seeing the Sentinels astride her other kin not far behind, but to even wait a moment is too long.
She lunges, claws colliding with the towering form of a turned minotaur, one of the Noxian invaders, knocking him to the ground, and then lunges for another, one of the river peoples, formally enemies now both seeking to rend her with their weapons.
She knocks them back and goes to pounce when a clawed hand wraps around the back of her neck.
One of the truly awful, Undying, alien, and monstrous, not of her home, draws her towards its rippling, ghostly maw.
And it vanishes, a sigh and the scent of new growth filling her nose.
She glances up and sees Senna kneeling, the end of her massive weapon, smoking.
The large furred one and the woman that smelled of happy memories launch from the cliff, weapons sinking into other Undying. They, too, falter and then fall to ash, new growth once more filling her senses.
She roars, bolstered by this new hope, and her Pakaa answer the call, leaping and surging to meet her.
The Undying will be pushed back!
Especially now, she is no longer the only one of her allies that could do any lasting harm to the Undying.
Never her spear, just her claw. Why, she had no answers, but perhaps one of these Sentinels did.
The one with the massive blade lands beside her, the blade radiating with magic and smelling of storm clouds. She strikes out, and dozens of Undying are knocked backward by buffeting winds.
She nods to Nidalee and then joins the melee, all around Senna's attacks, dusting Undying or bolstering allies, Pakaa and jungle folk rising to their feet, confused and amazed as her weapons touch seal their wounds.
Each shot makes her prior words ring true. Nidalee knows she will need to apologize when this is over.
She refocuses on the fighting, pouncing on one of the possessed as it tries to strike down another of her wards.
She slams it to the ground, snarling, jaws opening wide, but pauses, for the face snarling up at her is that of a cub. A young human boy with wavy hair matted with sweat and grime.
A surge of fear cut through her for a moment, and she needed to breathe in his scent, just to be sure.
Not him. Not him. Good. Unfortunate, but better than she feared.
She withdraws her claws and, with restraint, strikes the boy's head. His eyes roll, and she lunges away, promising to return to him after the rest of the threats are gone.
She readies herself for a long fight, but with the Sentinels at her back, the Undying buckle swiftly, the blue-haired woman's very presence seeming to chase the Mist away.
Despite this, what feels like hours later, she stands, bruised and scarred, panting, shifting back into her human form as the barbarian wrenches his axe from the last of the remaining enemies.
She glances around and spots a final Undying watching her, a dead man dressed in the styles of the Ixtali.
He begins to burn, and she knows what will come next. She lunges to meet him, and another form beats here and there.
Rengar sinks his blade through the man's neck and pulls, spraying rotten viscera everywhere, and the man still stands; the Kiilash snarls.
And then a bolt finds the man's head.
"Messy," the woman in glasses snips, materializing from thin air directly next to Nidalee. She had not smelled her, and that… bothers her greatly.
"You took my kill," Rengar growls, in a tongue she doubts Vayne can understand, but the punctuating growl at the end seems to reveal the point.
She smirks, "You're welcome."
Rengar growls louder and takes a step towards her, but Nidalee interposes.
"Curb your pride. They carry magic that can wound the Undying," she warns.
He stares down at her, cocking his head slightly, "Then we must have it."
"Agreed," Nidalee states, turning to look over towards Senna as she makes her way down the cliff. The blue-haired woman was nearby, running a comforting hand through the fur of the Pakaa that ferried her. The Noxian sheathes her blade as the last of the departing Undying vanish from sight. She turns to go to Senna, yet the barbarian interposes himself before she can head in that direction.
"I had hoped to see your spear in action," he remarks, glancing down at her.
"No good against the undying, only claw and fang," she returns, the foul taste swirling about her mouth, "How is it that you can-"
She pauses as a scream erupts from the hideaway. Then, she springs away and finds a woman struggling against the corrupted boy.
"Let her go, Nino, calm please!" she cries, wrestling the child away, wincing as he bites down on her arm, hard, though small as he is, no blood is drawn.
He continues to writhe and snarl, and Nidalee despairs as what must be the boy's parents appear nearby, tears falling freely, utterly lost.
And then the blue-haired girl and her scent of memory re there, Senna a step behind.
"What happened?" Gwen asks, shifting around to see the boy.
"The Crown," Nidalee states, "The mark of the Undying, it has taken him!"
"Viego," Senna states bitterly, the name carrying wait even though Nidalee has no knowledge of who that could be.
"Not much can be done except trust him to the rogue Zyri to hold," Nidalle says mournfully, fighting not to look at the boy's despondent parents.
Gwen reaches towards the boy, and he snaps at her hand.
"Don't-" Nidalee begins and then pauses as a gentle waft of silvery-blue mist pours from her hand and into the boy's face.
He calms almost immediately, looking up at Gwen, his eyes widening.
Nidalee can only watch, amazed, as Gwen gently places the same hand atop the boy's brow.
Silver light flares, and Gwen falters slightly on her feet, but as Nidalee blinks and stares out of her eyes, she looks down and sees the Crown gone, the boy free and confused.
She sets him down as his parents rush for him, scooping him into a frantic embrace.
She stares at Gwen, faintly aware of Senna laying a healing hand on the woman the boy attacked. The other Sentinels shift to join them.
"What are you?" Nidalee asks incredulously.
"I'm Gwen," she replies cheerfully.
Ezreal blinks his eyes open and coughs up a lung full of water as he rolls off his back and looks around.
They are on the bank of a river, underground the walls embedded with dozens of faintly glowing orange crystals.
The others are in a similar state of disarray, except for Pyke, who stands before them, leaning against the wall and staring down at Lucian with narrowed eyes.
"Only one way forward," he rasps.
Ezreal looks around. To the left, a collapse, boulders the size of a house, blocks their path. To the right, the tunnel is bent out of sight, and the river is slowly chugging along, rippling under the crystalline glow.
"What the hells was that?!" Yasuo demands, shoving Lucian as the pair stand.
"Senna lost an arm for Isolde, days of lost sleep before that, constant worry, constantly risking her life for a woman who should have died millennia ago," Lucian remarks, and Ezreal can hear the hesitation, the guilt, in his voice.
"You, you think she's making a mistake?" Ezreal accuses.
"No-never," Lucian returns, but the falter gives away hesitation, "But I don't want to lose her over it, even if she is doing the right thing."
"You can't make that choice for her," Yasuo states.
"I know." Lucian states, so quietly, "But I love her, and if I can find something that can keep her safe, then… should I not try to help her? Would you honestly not do the same?"
Yasuo falters for a moment, "I-I just worry you do not see the slippery slope you are walking towards."
Lucian frowns, stung once more by the accusation, "I thank every god there is that she returned to the land of the living. When I went to free her from Thresh, I had no idea that was possible."
He looks down the tunnel, "I just wanted her to be free, but she is still bound. More than I knew, and if this thing the old Sentinel's made can… sever that connection, then-"
"Would she want that?" Ezreal demands.
Lucian has no answer.
"Talking won't get us out of this cavern," Pyke interjects, "And there's something down here mind."
"Something huge!" Graves agrees, and he looks at Lucian for a moment, "I gotta ask, do you have any idea what you just did?"
"I made a deal." Lucian states, "To do what we were already planning on accomplishing."
"Two-Coats doesn't make fair deals," Graves returns, "Hunting for your wife's freedom is real noble, but are you sure you didn't just give up your own?"
Once again, Lucian had no answer he wished to share.
Ezreal glances around the tunnel, noticing for the first time designs and patterns interspersed between the crystals, interlinking them in a vast mosaic.
He glances towards the opposite bank, vanishes in a flash, and looks back.
What he sees causes him to let out a low whistle.
"'All might want to see this," he states.
The others leap or ford the river to join him and glance back.
All the gems and lines link to form an image of a vast scorpion-like being with three tails, like a constellation done in stone.
"That's 'Skarner'?" Graves asks, glancing at the others.
"Probably." Ezreal agrees, looking towards the larger crystals that were placed to resemble the entity's eyes.
"The longer we linger, the greater the chance that thing finds us," Pyke states, "We moving?"
"Yes," Lucian says, turning and moving down the tunnel. "Let's hope what we're after is not far."
"What you're after." Yasuo corrects.
Graves grumbles something about "Always getting myself into messes" and lights a new cigar before following after the others.
Ezreal debates, cracking out his sketchbook and making a quick draft but thinks better of it and races to catch up with the others.
If he had waited but a moment more, he would have seen the mosaic's "eyes" flare brightly and shift ever so slightly to look in their direction.
Olaf moves through the encampment carefully. He towers above most of the folk here by a good deal, excluding the cat-headed vastaya that eyed him like his very presence was some manner of affront.
Not that he cared. It was too Gods damned hot for him to care about folk that would never prove a challenge.
He was following after Senna and their newest ally, the curious cat-shifter Nidalee. He'd heard of similar stories back home but never encountered any shapeshifters except, well… he wonders if his own changes in the depth of the battle-madness count.
Vayne, Riven, and Gwen had gone off to help other folks about this hideaway and look for signs of their lost friends. Well, Gwen had wished to, but she was instead heaped with praise and gifts, smiling a bit bashfully back behind them.
He chuckles. She deserves some praise after all that has transpired.
Senna and Nidalee are deep in conversation, talking of their previous victories and defeats, but in a way that he finds, well… rather boring. Too swift-paced, to logical, no boisterous language fitting of the saga they have crafted for themselves.
He looks to the side and stops in puzzlement, seeing a curious interaction.
A human woman mending a tent, but those aiding her are what draws her eyes, the first one of the vast mammoth-like animals using its multiple trunks to hold the uneven tent steady, and the other a mobile plant with vaguely humanoid features, holding the materials she needed to work.
"The folk here are quite varied," he stares, drawing their attention.
Nidalee looks over and smiles, "More than you know. She is Ixtali, who has long been apart from the wider jungle. He is a Pollyphant, one of the oldest and most secretive animals we know of. They are Zyri, a sort of mobile and carnivorous plant that long saw all others as food, but something has changed."
He turns back, seeing the woman finish her repairs, and heartily thanks her companions. The Pollyphant nuzzling them both with its trunks, the Zyri fluttering its petals in happiness, perhaps?
"Trying days lead to unlikely alliances." Nidalee remarks, gesturing around the encampment.
"So we have learned." Senna returns with a nod. Olaf grins, "Our band is a motley bunch as well, though perhaps not as much as yours."
"Yes…" Nidalee murmurs, looking at Senna and then awkwardly extending a hand. "I must… apologize for our initial meeting. You and yours dropped into our, what is the word, 'laps' quite suddenly."
"I understand," Senna states, though Olaf can see the tension in her shoulders. "I swear that when the item we seek is recovered, attacks from the Mist should lessen, if not simply become more manageable."
"Would you be willing to grant us, me, some of your arsenal?" Nidalee asks, "I am the only fighter amongst our troop, not marked by the elements that harm the Undying, and even then, they never stay gone for long."
"You haven't been able to recover anything from the ruins atop the far hill?" Senna asks, pointing to where the rise where the Ixtali Sentinel base withered away.
"The Ixtali that fled their city spoke of that place. That rumor told of aid to be found there." Nidalee notes, her tone bitter, "We found next to nothing. Except for signs of the Sovereign's displeasure."
"What is the Sovereign?" Olaf asks.
"An old being, one of many names and titles, the founder of Ixtal," Nidalee offers, "But that does not make him beloved, especially not by those that live outside his gilded walls. He wishes his people to be hidden and shielded from the world. We of the forest… are a reminder that life can thrive without him."
She pauses, staring at a group of wounded Ixtali folk, Gwen urged to their side by her throng of new admirers. She smiles and nods, looking more than a little overwhelmed.
Olaf moves to extract her from the situation but pauses as he sees Vayne already stalking to do the very same. He lets her do it because she is likely to be more frightening than he in this instance.
"Or in spite of him, perhaps." Nidalee continues, "Your Sentinel's likely upset him in some manner or another and to protect his beloved 'children' from their influences, he buried them deep. Any weapons, any information we could have used, maybe rotting away in his burrows."
"Well, then I can offer you a chance to take a look at our armory when this is all said in done," Senna offers, "But back to the matter of the it-"
A vibrantly colored reptilian Vastaya comes running up to them in a huff and cuts her off.
"Kuulcan?" Nidalee asks, eying the panic in his face.
"Nidalee," he gasps, "They're at it again."
Nidalee growls and looks to Senna apologetically, "If I am correct, we will find the person you seek quite soon."
She darts away deeper into the camp, leaving Senna to stare up at Olaf.
"Why must there always be something?" she asks.
"Because that is the way of the world, easy living even it considers boring," Olaf answers, grinning slightly but then composing himself as he sees the tiredness in her eyes, "Are you okay?"
"I-" she begins, seeming ready to deflect his question but stopping herself as she glances down at her spectral arm, "No."
"What bothers you, the arm?" Olaf asks, reaching for his patch, "I have some herbs that dull the pain my tribe gives to those that have lost limbs, helps me when my eye wishes to be remembered, or is it Lucian? Viego? Your passenger?"
"All of the above," Senna responds, putting a hand to her temple and glancing over to where Riven had appeared to try and help Vayne chase away Gwen's admirers, "I just can't let this one slip through my fingers. And Lucian…
"It won't, and we will find him and the others if they do not find us first." Olaf reassures, "Now, let us see what draws our new friend away."
They find her pushing apart two arguing figures, the one the same white-furred vastaya from before, the other a small woman with a frog almost the size of her draped across her back.
"Enough!" Nidalee demands, finally getting them to separate.
The vastaya snarls, "Again, my folk are made to wait while the child sees weaklings' wounds!"
"He's not seeing anyone right now! He's resting!" the woman snaps back, "The fight took a lot out of him."
"You allow him to see the city folk and outlanders before those that actually call this jungle home again and again!" the vastaya growls.
"They don't know how to survive out here. Their magic doesn't fight off the diseases like yours does. They need-"
"My people need help." the vastaya states, cutting across her, "And I will take it regardless of what you or the boy say. His spirits are the ones that actually do the work. He can spare one."
He moves to enter the tent, and Nidalee steps before him, snarling.
"If you wish to continue to call this place a haven, Rengar, you will not take one more step." Nidalee growls.
"We Kiilash fight shoulder to shoulder with you against the Undying, putting aside years of strife, while folk like her cower in their tents," Rengar snaps, "You would spite me?"
"Kiilash do not know how to take only what they need," she fires back, "And I will not have you harm the child."
"I mean him no harm, the spirits-" Rengar protests.
"Are his to use, no one else's, end of discussion." Nidalee snaps, and the woman smiles gratefully.
"You are making a mistake," Rengar warns.
"Who needs healing?" Senna asks, cutting through the tension.
Rengar turns to her, sniffing the air, his face contorting.
"You can heal, dead thing?" he demands.
Olaf bristles at the insult, hand twitching for an ax, but Senna stops him.
"I can. Who requires it?" she asks.
Rengar ushers three of his people forward, fresh claw marks covering their torsos and one holding a broken arm.
"What did this?" Senna asks.
"A corrupted Pakaa," Rengar offers, giving Nidalee a flat look, "It had to be slain. I am… sorry."
Olaf knows little of this place or the relations of its people, but he can tell that the sorry had no true backing behind it. Nidalee briefly loses control of her form, her Pakaa side reading to burst out and lay into the vastaya, but she controls herself.
"Heal them, if only so I no longer have to see them," Nidalee states, and with that, she slips inside the tent.
Senna does so, her magic sealing their wounds, and they depart without even so much as a thank you.
Olaf glares after them, but Senna takes it all in stride, heading into the tent.
He follows.
Laying on a bed, surrounded by small shifting orbs of living fire, is a boy who can't be older than his early teens.
"This is our guide?" Olaf asks, unable to disguise his incredulity.
"I do not know the entirety of his story, but I believe so," Nidalee offers, "But I think it is best to let him sleep. He pushed himself too hard again."
"Doing what?" Senna asks, looking around at the shimmering balls of fire that, at a closer glance, are revealed to be looking back at her with eyes of their own, brimming with curiosity.
"Healing the injured," Nidalee states, "Many were wounded before we returned, and Milio's magic allows him to heal."
"And these?" Senna asks, smiling slightly approaches her.
"Watch out!" Olaf cries as another darts forward and brushes against her hand.
She flinches back and then freezes, looking down at the little entity with a surprised expression as it rubs against her head like an excited cat.
"Senna?" Olaf asks.
"It doesn't hurt. They simply feel warm," she states.
"They're part of his gift," Nidalee offers, smiling at the sleeping boy as he hugs another of the spirits to his chest. "Healing through flame, it was quite a surprise for me as well the first time I encountered him.
Senna nods, trying to hide a grimace. "Perhaps it would be best if we continued the hunt alone then; I do not wish to endanger a child."
"I do not seek to endanger him; I simply want you to hear his story and see if it rings true to what you seek. The sun kisses the land. I will aid you in reaching your goal tomorrow when it returns to us," Nidalee states. "The nature of the jungle may have shifted with the coming of the Mist and the Undying, but that does not mean the night is any safer than before. Much hunts under the moon."
Senna hesitates, thinking silently for several minutes before looking up at Olaf, "Tell the others to get some rest and to be ready to leave as soon as we can tomorrow morning."
"Right," he growls, heading back the way they had come. Senna glances down at the young boy, already drifting to sleep, clutching his flaming companion to his chest, and to Nidalee, who sits beside him, eyes burrowing into the dark jungle beyond.
"You should rest, too," Nidalee offers. "I promise you will learn all he knows when he awakens."
Senna nods, "Thank you."
She turns to leave, staring out into the jungle.
"Wherever you are, love, I hope you are being careful," she murmurs, a pulse of comforting commiseration bubbling up from the fetter within.
In her distraction and worry, she misses the pair of green eyes peering down at her from the trees above. The eyes vanish as Nidalee, too, emerges from the tent and glances up, just missing the shadow flitting away in the darkness.
Lucian holds up a hand, narrowing his eyes as he sees something move in the false twilight ahead of them as he moves around another corner. They have been walking for hours, it feels, and the tunnel had been relatively uneventful until now.
"Wait," he whispers.
"What?" Ezreal asks, glancing around nervously.
He gestures for them to look around the wall, pointing ahead.
There, in the middle of the path, is a pair of figures, hunched and murmuring.
"I didn't think anyone would be down here," Lucian remarks.
"Maybe they are locals that sought shelter?" Ezreal offers.
"Well, I'm sick of trudging without any clue where we are going," Graves grumbles.
The others turn to him, realizing too late what he is about to do.
"Hey! You folks know what's at the end of this here tunnel?" he calls out, shifting closer towards them and raising his hand.
"You idiot." Yasuo growls, and Pyke makes a motion, as if he wishes to stab Graves in the side but restrains himself.
The figures turn, and Grave drops his hand. In the center of their chests, black triangles blaze.
The nearest, a woman, shrieks at him and bursts into flames, her body wreathed in an armor of eldritch fire.
The other, a man, charges towards them, water and stone threaded with Mist forming an armor of sickening muck across his body.
"Aw, hells," he swears, scrambling for his gun.
Lucian prepares to lunge towards them and stops as something rattles behind them, a stone clattering about the ground.
He whirls, expecting more ruin, and instead, towering above him is an earthen form resembling a scorpion.
He blinks and recognizes it, the mosaic, now mobile, a spirit inhabiting a shell of stone.
"Intruders." a voice states, heard not in their ears but rattling up through their feet and bones.
Lucian feels Yasuo's eyes burning into him without even needing to look.
He doesn't care; they've faced worse, and anything they need to face down here will be worth it.
It has to be worth it.
The elemental lunges and his thoughts are cast aside to focus on survival.
For her.
And Scene!
Next time, delve into danger both above and below.
A deal has been struck, an old bargain tossed aside, and what remains lurks, ready to upset any plans the Sentinels may have.
We'll see~
As always, comments, questions, and critiques are appreciated. This has been VerBeeker, signing off!