Chapter 6: Torment
Katarina was quick to forget her unfortunate episode. Now with a newfound aversion to anything remotely related to the Void, she was perfectly content to never, ever discuss the events that had transpired thanks to a certain failed bet. Ever.
Ever.
As it turned out, the universe had decided to grant her a distraction.
In the days that followed, Katarina found herself caught in a flurry of activity as the Institute released a surprise announcement: a tournament was approaching the League, and quickly. Summoners and champions alike began to prepare. Immediately, grueling practice schedules had been enacted, and most members of the League became completely devoid of free time. The assassin was rather pleased about this development and threw herself into each battle with a fervor that proved infectious to her summoners, as she often felt the pull of summoning immediately after departing another match. As a result, she typically entered a practice battle while still coated in the gore that remained from the previous one.
On the morning of the first tournament battle, she woke from a deep sleep, called into awareness by the foreign thoughts echoing in her mind.
Katarina Du Couteau, you have been selected to compete. Report to the Fields of Justice in one hour.
Her annoyance at being woken up was soon replaced with a grim satisfaction. Quickly, she arose, making the necessary preparations. She showered, dressed, and inspected her knives with a meticulous eye one final time before putting them all back into place. By the time she was ready, it was nearly time. She stood from her position on the bed and automatically turned to face the hanging crest.
"For the glory of Noxus," she murmured softly to herself before departing.
When she arrived at the summoning platforms, she found herself in the middle of a confused crowd. All around her, summoners appeared to be talking animatedly about the upcoming tournament, but something seemed...off. Katarina could see no other champions nearby, and the disorder of the crowd baffled her. She quickly grabbed the first Noxian-allied summoner she came across.
"What's going on?" she demanded of the youth, who stared at her with wide, terrified eyes.
"Uhhh…" he droned stupidly, quivering under her grip.
"I asked you a question, boy," the assassin restated with a sneer.
He shook himself for a moment before answering. "They're...doing something weird with the selections," he finally said.
"What sort of 'weird'?"
The boy shrugged nervously and Katarina released him with a frustrated shove.
"The selection process has just been changed," said a deep voice behind her. Ignoring the frightened boy, Katarina turned to face the man, who was dressed in a long, flowing cloak that distinguished him as a neutral-allied senior summoner, surrounded with an air of authority. "As was agreed upon by the two summoner teams, the selection process has been changed to blind mode."
Katarina stared at him in surprise, shaking her head. "Blind mode? For a tournament?"
The man's expression did not change. "It is unorthodox, but not unheard of. All involved summoners have agreed to the terms laid out. I am allowed to inform you that the teams are composed of Noxus-allied summoners versus Demacian-allied summoners." He paused for a moment, allowing that information to sink in. "I understand that you were one of the champions originally selected for the tournament draft. I should inform you that I cannot guarantee that you will be selected again."
"Fuck," growled Katarina.
"I apologize for the inconvenience," said the man while completely ignoring the assassin's behavior. "The changes were made very suddenly. We did think that, because this particular match was scheduled at such an early hour, we would run the draft in advance and inform you that way. We were perhaps overambitious."
"I'll say," she sighed in frustration, glancing around at the crowd of summoners. "At least tell me the battle will start soon."
He nodded, pulling his hood up over his head, a gesture that was almost dismissive. "Selection is imminent. You are free to go anywhere you wish. If you are needed, you will be summoned. If not, we will inform you." Without waiting for a response, the man melted back into the crowd as Katarina watched him with a look that almost betrayed disdain. Summoners always had a habit of ruining her fun. She didn't particularly feel like standing in a crowd, surrounded by them, so she turned and made her way to the Institute's front entrance to play the waiting game.
It was not a game she was good at.
After several minutes of pacing around the main corridor, the impatient assassin threw her head back and groaned. How long was this going to take? She wasn't in the mood for this sort of thing. She wanted to fight. No, she needed to fight. Her fingers were going to go crazy if they weren't gripping a knife soon. They twitched at her sides, begging for something to do, something to kill.
She paused her pacing suddenly, pulling out one of her blades. She had her back to the wall that sat proudly across from the Institute's main entrance. It was, she knew, emblazoned with several different crests and symbols from all across Valoran. She had seen it many times before. An idea surfaced in her head, and before she had the chance to think, she whirled around and released the blade from her fingers, turning quickly enough to make aiming an impossibility.
Thwack.
The weapon sank into the wall right behind her, buried nearly to the hilt. It shuddered softly with vibrations from the impact.
Slowly, she approached the mural, coming to a halt right in front of the protruding knife. She smirked in mild amusement when she noticed that it had landed right in the middle of a painted image of a skull that was covered in barbarian war paint. The smirk faded when she noticed its proximity to the Noxian crest.
Why did I not notice that before?
As she ripped the hilt out of the wall, she heard the words of her summons.
The next instant found Katarina on the illuminated purple platform, staring down the line of turrets with a thrill of anticipation and relief. She would fight. The slight tremor in her fingertips stilled as she took a moment to take in her surroundings.
The air in the Rift was thick, weighted with the anticipation of the battle to come. The overcast sky was threatening rain, and her team mates watched the looming clouds uneasily. She ignored the weather, knowing it would make no difference in her performance. She was instead distracted by the vague presence in her mind that was far more vast than simply the mind of her summoner. She could feel thousands of eyes all directed to the Rift, all pointed in her general direction.
Aware of this fact, she drew herself to her full height and exited the platform without a word to the other four champions on the fountain.
Katarina Du Couteau. I have to speak with you. The woman was startled by the sound of a soft yet distinct voice that rang clear in her head as she disappeared into the jungle. It took her several moments to realize that the source of the voice was her summoner. Katarina was well trained in the art of blocking her mind from them, but she now found her consciousness weakly linked with this particular summoner. She felt a flare of annoyance at having her consciousness invaded, particularly during such an important match.
Stay out of my head, she hissed. The Noxian was a proud veteran of the League, and she had assumed that her summoners would have figured out how she operated by now.
Evidently not.
You have to listen to me, came the voice, louder this time, but Katarina shook her head violently in response.
When the summoner refused to relinquish hold, the assassin let out a soft growl. Are you stupid? I said get out!
Please- she began before Katarina cut off her thought.
You asked for this, she warned darkly.
With no other warning, she delved into the unprepared mind that melded with hers. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she may have heard a frightened scream, but that could have been her imagination.
The thoughts that filled her head were those of an apprentice summoner fresh out of Noxus. She was young, but auspicious, with an unwavering loyalty to the city-state she now served. Despite her inexperience, Katarina could feel her power, and her promise. Yet the assassin was surprised by one simple fact: the young woman had never before summoned her. This confused Katarina greatly, and despite the inarticulate protests hurled at her, she dug deeper into the stranger's mind until she became aware of a hidden desire to become head of the Noxian military.
The champion smirked at her summoner's foolishness as she loosened her grip. You summon me in a tournament when you have never before trained in my style. Her words were mocking and laced with disapproval.
To her surprise, the woman showed no uneasiness. If anything, she seemed more determined. Will you listen, or not?
Katarina scowled at the air in front of her as the announcer's voice echoed over the Rift, proclaiming the half-minute warning until the battle's start.
Not, she answered curtly, and if you had bothered to practice with me before today, you would have understood that. She began to close her mind to the now-flustered summoner, detaching the link that let them communicate easily. Don't worry, I'll carry you, she said as the connection faded.
Swain is your opponent.
The words were a faint whisper, a quick warning provided in the last possible instant before the silence resumed, just barely enough to register with the assassin, who reopened the link immediately.
Say that again. She must have misheard.
You're against Swain, explained the woman with a hint of exasperation that Katarina probably would have punished, if she hadn't been so surprised. The Demacians seek to unnerve you, came the calmer reply. They've selected your superior for this battle.
It was not an unheard of strategy, but it was typically reserved for lower-level skirmishes rather than tournaments. When opposing city-states had battles, one side would sometimes choose prominent champions allied to the opposing side – a tactic that was looked down upon, but not strictly forbidden. It was a risky strategy and difficult to pull off, and the team that did it risked their chosen enemy turning on them. But Katarina thought of her general's steadfast determination, and she knew that he would not hesitate in the upcoming battle, even if it was against fellow Noxians.
After letting her initial surprise fade, Katarina gave herself a moment to consider Swain's strengths and weaknesses. He was probably the strongest mage she knew, and he would become very difficult to kill by the middle of the match. Still, he was far from an impossible opponent. He was slow due to his cane, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to break her concentration when she unleashed a Death Lotus.
Your knives will prevent his birds from healing him, thought Katarina's summoner, her excitement mounting as she spoke rapidly of strategy. Also, they have a substitute in the bottom lane -
Her words broke Katarina's focus, and the assassin bristled. Get out, she ordered.
But I-
OUT.
Katarina forced the apprentice out of her mind and quickly re-established her mental barriers.
"Pay attention!" snarled a voice from nearby, and she whirled around to face an impatient Warwick, who was crouched at the entrance to the ancient golem's camp. "You have a job to do, Sinister Blade."
With a glare, Katarina hurled her knife in his direction. The werewolf managed to duck just in time for the blade to lodge itself directly into the golem's chest. Warwick growled in warning, but didn't otherwise hesitate as he launched himself on top of the confused creature.
The assassin quickly moved to her lane, arriving at the base of her tower before Swain could make an appearance. A crowd of minions fought in the wide clearing that extended over the river. Her general still did not come, and the minions quickly began to look battered. After another moment, Katarina abandoned her position and rolled out onto the field to deliver killing blows to the enemy minion wave.
Right as her feet landed, a bright circle appeared on the ground around her, and before she could react, a pair of talons erupted from the dirt and closed tightly around her ankles. The assassin swore to herself, eyes scanning the fog of war for Swain. He emerged right as the talons released their grip, a dark smirk on his face. "Patience is a virtue, Sinister Blade."
Katarina felt a flare of annoyance as she hurled a knife at an injured minion to kill it. "Demacia seems to have taken a shine to you," she mocked as she continued to fight the crowd of blue minions around her.
"Don't think for an instant I'm going to go easy on you," Swain warned grimly, and Katarina took a deep breath and prepared for the battle.
Despite their bravado, both played quite passively, attacking only the opposing minions rather than each other. Katarina watched the man carefully, waiting for any wrong movement, and she felt him appraise her with the same regard. Her eyes carefully scanned his, anticipating a misstep.
There. He was a pace in front of his minions, just a few feet out of position. Reacting quickly to the realization, the assassin sunk a blade into his side, disappearing in a puff of purple smoke before the general could retaliate. She retreated to the edge of her minion line and stopped, eyes narrowing as she turned to look back at Swain. Somewhere within her mind, her instincts were activating. Something wasn't right.
One striking feature about General Swain was his eyes: twin pits of dull crimson that hinted at an internal vicious drive that seemed to contradict his aged stature. These were the eyes that countless soldiers had cowered before in terror, eyes that even Katarina herself had found unnerving on more than one occasion.
This happened to be one of those occasions. Instead of the usual faded red, Swain's eyes were burning so brightly that it was as if a fire had ignited inside of the general's skull, blazing brightly and broadcasting his fury to the world. The sight was unsettling to Katarina, who knew the man to be fully composed at all times, even when on the Fields of Justice. One strike from her knife should not bring about such a dramatic change in his features. His was a silent fury, marked with a certain subtly that was far more terrifying than overt rage.
This was an exception. As Katarina watched, the man trembled under some great unseen force, his expression frozen in a mask of fury. The perplexed assassin locked eyes with the man, unsure of what could possibly have caused such a reaction…
"Get. Out. Of. My. HEAD!" roared Swain, punctuating the last words with a furious squawk as his body exploded into a cloud of dark feathers. From somewhere far off, a terrified scream sounded, echoing over the tree line and masking the sounds of an entire flock of ravens taking flight.
In the midst of the erupting chaos, Katarina felt her instincts snap, and she saw her opening. In one fluid movement she was behind the enormous bird and spinning rapidly, releasing her hidden blades as she executed a flawless Death Lotus.
She could sense her blades digging into Swain's flesh as the man issued inhuman cries of pain, futilely attempting to shield himself with his large wings before they were torn into shreds. Around her, his ravens flew directly at her in desperate attempts to heal their master and break the assassin's concentration.
Although the ravens alone were unable to disrupt Katarina's Death Lotus, the huge crystal arrow that slammed into her body like a truck was. Her limbs froze instantly, holding her body at an unnatural posture as the General immediately took advantage of her incapacitation, flashing away from her in the blink of an eye and limping past his turret just as the last of the midnight black feathers fell from his nearly-spent body. He did not look back.
So close, thought Katarina darkly, swearing under her breath as the Rift's magic rapidly melted the layer of ice that had surrounded her at a much faster pace than was normal. Before she had even finished thawing, her eyes had found the source of the arrow, appraising her from the river bank with a guarded expression. The instant of confusion Katarina felt at the sight of the Freljordian faded in a haze of battle-thoughts. The Sinister Blade locked eyes with the Frost Archer as each made the necessary calculations in a split second.
Katarina knew that she could kill the woman, and Ashe had evidently arrived at the same conclusion as she melted back into the jungle instantly. Without a moment's hesitation, the assassin gave chase, following Ashe as she took off across the river.
The wild chase was short lived as the Noxian stepped into range of her Shunpo, appearing directly behind the Frost Archer not a moment later and using one hand to fling the other woman's bow to the ground with a snarl. The hand then clamped around her wrist, jerking her to a stop. In desperation, Ashe tried to break Katarina's grip with a strong punch aimed at the Noxian's chest. Her opponent absorbed the impact, nails digging into the cold flesh of the hand that she still restrained, the blade in her free hand moving in for a strike at the closest target: Ashe's stomach.
The archer's eyes widened as the knife met its mark with vicious force, covering both of them in a light spray of crimson. Ashe's fist faltered and dropped from the other woman's chest, her body trembling lightly with shock. Stomach wounds were particularly gruesome, whether or not they took place on the Fields of Justice. The cold, petrified face in front of her nearly made Katarina falter, but the assassin gathered her wits and recovered enough to send the blade home, extinguishing the light in Ashe's eyes.
"An enemy has been slain!" declared the announcer, and Katarina could feel the widespread approval from her vast audience. The feeling brought her out of the trance-like state she had been in with a jolt, and the face of the woman in her arms suddenly registered. Her expression was frozen into a mask of agony, her eyes wide and unseeing, cast skywards towards the glowing storm clouds. The slightest shiver passed down Katarina's spine as her arms went slack, releasing Ashe, who fell unceremoniously into the river, staining the water red.
The assassin couldn't bring herself to move, and she stood knee-deep in the gently flowing current, as well as her own confusion. Death, blood, suffering – none of these were new to her. Yet, in this moment -
Get moving, commanded the impatient voice inside of her head as her summoner managed to hedge her mental barriers again. What are you waiting for?
Even under the best of circumstances, a summoner speaking to Katarina in such a manner would be put in their place immediately. In her current state, the Sinister Blade was completely unwilling to tolerate the girl's insolence. The rage surfaced from deep within as she turned away from the fading body in the river.
She couldn't form words or coherent thoughts, so instead she flooded her summoner with a flurry of torturous images. Blood and fire passed before her mind's eye in a stream of gruesome snapshots.
She was in a shadowed chamber slicing into a man's skin…she was standing on a battlefield full of injured, dying men…she was laughing - cruel, uninhibited laughter, half-crazed as sprays of blood rained from the sky around her. Wild screaming sounded from the depths of her consciousness; screams of terror, of despair, of pain. She felt the summoner recoil in disgust, severing the link of her own accord.
"And stay out," muttered Katarina darkly to herself as she began to make her way out of the jungle, banishing the memories with ease.
Her mental barriers remained untouched for the rest of the match.
By the time the battle ended, Katarina's limbs were thick with exhaustion. The fighting had extended well past the hour mark, and all of the champions involved appeared to be in need of a rest. Noxus had prevailed, though the struggle had been rough and incredibly close.
The ten champions on the dais breathed half-hearted words of praise and congratulations as they recovered. Across from Katarina, Swain stood among his team looking more out of place than ever. Beside him on either side, Sona and Shyvanna were angled away, clearly attempting to hide their discomfort at his proximity. The man himself appeared the least affected by the battle that had just transpired; with the exception of a few stray feathers than clung to his clothes, he seemed utterly normal. The birdman who had exploded in rage on the Rift was gone.
"Excellent work, Katarina," he said with a nod in her direction. "You continue to make Noxus proud." She acknowledged him with an answering nod and watched as he stepped off of the champion platform and approached that of the summoners.
Curious, Katarina's eyes wandered over the five Noxian-allied summoners, falling on the one female among them. She was surprisingly small, yet she held herself with an air of confidence that was almost enough to make up for it.
Almost.
As she met Katarina's gaze, that confidence faltered, and her raven hair moved to cover half of her face as she lowered her eyes. The Sinister Blade smirked in mild amusement. What was her name? She might have found it when she delved into the girl's mind, but she couldn't remember now.
Her attention shifted to the opposite row of summoners, where a mild commotion was raised as Swain approached the four unsettled Demacians. The fifth was on the ground among them, shaking and muttering frantically under his breath. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and though he seemed to watch the general as he moved, his gaze was far away. His comrades hovered around him with concern, calling his name in an attempt to rouse him.
"Cal! You have to get up!" the boy kneeling next to him was gripping his fallen friend's robes, tugging in vain. The other three took an automatic step away from him as they watched Swain approach, but the boy had his back to the Noxian, oblivious.
"Let me speak to him," said Swain in a level voice. The kneeling summoner whirled around at the sound, face contorted in anger.
"What did you do to Cal!" he demanded, hands curling into fists around his trembling friend's robes. Cal fell silent, eyes locked on the figure of the man who towered above him.
Swain shook off the question, holding Cal's horrified gaze. "You are never going to summon me again." It wasn't a request.
Cal made a soft, incoherent noise in response.
"And if you do, I will not be as kind to you as I have been today."
The noise morphed into senseless babble, growing louder and more frantic as the young summoner continued to stare at the perfectly composed figure of general Swain. Soon, he was screaming, his voice shooting up several octaves.
"GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" He cried the only words he could manage to form before degenerating into more senseless language. His friends quickly pulled him to his feet and dragged him off the platform, still screaming at the top of his lungs. Swain watched until he disappeared from view, turning to the five Noxian-allied summoners, who were watching him with wary expressions.
"Good work," he said simply. Satisfied, he began to depart, all eyes following him save Katarina's, who fixed again on the grim face of her summoner, searching for any signs that something was amiss. The girl's eyes appeared cold and disturbed, but she seemed composed enough. She did not meet Katarina's gaze.
The Sinister Blade felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Ashe beside her, face unreadable. The sight of the woman filled her with an unusual series of emotions that twisted her stomach into knots. The most obvious one was the powerful desire to attack, which she quickly brushed off. Not on the Field anymore, she reminded herself.
"You fought well," said Ashe simply.
Katarina nodded and muttered a word of thanks, calculating her opponent's face. The other woman's look seemed to be loaded, but she betrayed nothing. The cold hand left her shoulder and, with a forced smile, the archer left the platform.
Unable to look away, the Sinister Blade discreetly watched Ashe's slight limp, made worse by exhaustion. Still, she hid it well, managing to look regal as she stepped up to a group of summoners who stood in elaborate white-and-gold robes. The five of them observed their queen with reverence, and when she reached them, they lowered their hoods as they bowed in unison, revealing the fair hair and clear eyes that marked them as Freljordian. The youth in the center of their group arose, but the other four remained bent in respect.
He began to speak to Ashe animatedly, and even from a distance, Katarina could feel his excitement. She furrowed her brow as she continued to examine his stature. Something was off about him, but she couldn't quite determine what it was. With a nod to her other teammates, she departed the platform as well, walking in Ashe's direction discreetly.
As she drew closer to the man, her eyes focused first on his hair. It was a dirtier blonde than those of his companions, and far longer, tied back with a cord. His features, too, were less delicate, too pronounced. Even the way he stood was different – he was built powerfully, with broad shoulders and a solid stance that showcased his obvious physical strength.
All at once, Katarina realized that he was a barbarian. No, that wasn't right…not entirely. His hair was too light, and his eyes were very distinctly Freljordian. He was half-barbarian.
The Sinister Blade watched him with a critical eye as he continued to speak to Ashe, filling with a sense of disquiet as she glimpsed Tryndamere in the boy's features.
Speak of the devil. The barbarian king himself had appeared among the Freljordian crowd, and he pushed through the group of summoners to stand beside his wife. Though her back was to Katarina, she could see the woman stiffen as his hand came in contact with her shoulder.
Unconsciously, the Noxian ran a hand over the blade at her belt.
"Sinister Blade," said a voice behind her, pulling her from her observation. Katarina's hand fell from her belt and she faced Talon, attempting to keep her face neutral as he addressed her.
"Talon."
The man gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Swain has requested that you watch the next match with us."
She sighed. "I'm sure he did. I'll be right there. You're dismissed."
Silently, he departed, and Katarina turned back to the Freljordians. The summoners had departed, taking Tryndamere with them. Ashe stood by herself, still in her clothes from the last match, and the assassin quickly recognized that she was attempting to work through her exhaustion before the next battle, for surely she would be selected by the Freljordian team.
Go talk to her, Katarina commanded herself, trying to ignore the huge patch of crimson that stained the archer's tunic right around her stomach. Slowly, her feet began to move of their own accord, taking her closer to Ashe.
"Fighting again so soon?" she asked, causing the archer to look up from the bowstring she had been adjusting.
"I fight for my homeland now," she said softly, "not as a substitute for Demacia."
Despite herself, Katarina smiled, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "You'd better hope your opponents don't pick you first."
Ashe held her gaze with a look of disbelief. "Yes. I'm sure the summoners will be dying to grab their opponent's champions after what happened last game."
Katarina chuckled, surprised by the sarcasm. "You never know."
After a minute, Ashe returned her smile hesitantly. "I suppose not." She pulled the quiver of arrows from her back and began adjusting the leather straps. Katarina watched her in silence until her hands stilled suddenly. "About what happened with Swain…" she trailed off, unsure.
"You want to know what he did to that boy," filled in Katarina, "and I'm not the right person to ask."
Ashe snorted humorlessly. "Is anybody the right person to ask?"
The assassin considered that for a moment. "Probably not. I somehow doubt that the summoner would tell you, and Swain sure wouldn't."
Ashe absently pulled on her straps, not looking at the assassin. "I suppose what I really want to know is…why?"
Katarina raised her eyebrows at the question. She watched the archer in silence before her failure to respond caused the other woman to look up. They locked gazes for a few moments before Katarina broke the stare, her eyes falling again on the bloodstain that her knife had elicited. The look was brief, and she turned away before responding.
"I told you. Noxians don't deal well with foreigners."
Ashe chuckled unexpectedly.
"What's funny?" asked the assassin, bemused. When the other woman didn't answer, she pushed herself off of the wall and watched as Ashe shouldered her quiver.
"Wish me luck," she finally said, turning back to the platforms, where a number of champions were already gathering.
"Luck," Katarina echoed simply, watching the growing crowd. The match was officially a battle between Freljord and Bandle City, but all champions were required to be close by in the event that the involved summoners wished to employ substitutes. Katarina spotted Talon and Cassiopeia on the fringes, observing the proceedings with calculating eyes. She moved to join them.
"Keeping an eye on the competition?" asked Talon as she approached. Beside him, Cassiopeia stiffened and took a great deal of care not to look at her sister.
"Mind your own business," Katarina looked at both of them with a threatening expression. "Both of you." Cassiopeia made no indication that she had heard the warning.
Why is she acting like this? wondered Katarina. It was very unlike her sister to be anything but nosy, yet the two had hardly spoken in the past week or so. The change was odd, but the assassin welcomed a break from her sister, whose tendency to pry into the lives of others irritated her to no end.
Still, it was a curious disconnect from her usual manner. Katarina almost asked her right then, but stopped herself. Whatever it was, it could wait. She wasn't done enjoying the break quite yet. She felt especially pleased with her decision a moment later, when she overheard the half-serpent whispering something to Talon about Yordles that was punctuated with raised eyebrows and suggestive gestures.
The minutes passed slowly as the summoners prepared for the match. Finally, all were ready,and the sudden silence of the crowd pulled the assassin from her reverie. She casually observed the rather dull process of champion selection.
Maybe they won't fuck it up this time, she thought to herself.
Tristana was called first for Bandle City, and she rushed up to the platform with an excited grin. Ashe was then claimed for the Frejlordian side, and she gave the yordle gunner a friendly nod as she joined her. She had taken the time to change quickly, and her new tunic was now free of blood. Nunu was next in line, and he and Willump stood beside Ashe excitedly. Lulu gracefully floated up through the crowd to take her place, and Ziggs moved to stand beside her, brandishing a round bomb in his opponent's faces and cackling for good measure. Anivia and Volibear stood across from him, both managing to look dignified, despite the display that the Hexplosives Expert was putting on right in front of them. Amumu slumped beside him, eyes cast to the ground.
Suddenly, the yordle summoners fell quiet. Katarina watched with vague curiosity as the five of them leaned in closer, whispering to each other. Above them, the clock ticked.
"10 seconds," warned the voice of the announcer, and the group of yordles scattered, eagerly shoving the largest among them (who would perhaps reach Katarina's waist at his full height) to the front. He glanced at the pool of champions, nervousness written all over his face.
"5 seconds," said the announcer, and the crowd stared at the tiny figure in great confusion, waiting for him to speak.
"W-we select the barbarian T-Tryndamere for our final pick," he stammered, eliciting an audible gasp from the crowd, including Katarina.