[spoiler] <o1 Into the Void>
ยป One could make out faint sounds as they traversed the cityscape, distant voices echoing through the shallow darkness of the metropolis; Zaun was never quiet. Instead it thrummed with dark energy, pulsing from stoop to door step like the thumping of a massive heart. This organ had no emotion, nor thoughts of it's own, yet it gave access to the pumping citizens who ushered through the evening as though it was in tune with their steps. The Storm's Fury moved with purpose, against the currents of the pedestrian crowd, unimpressed. Her agenda led elsewhere, down through the catacombs that fed deep towards the core sector, with the dying sounds of Zaun's citizens flushed by distance. It wasn't until she had entirely broken from the rest of the nightlife that she eased her pace, regardless now difficult it may have seemed to do so, floating along as she did. So focused on her destination, she seemed oblivious to the rest of the world; locked away mentally by the personal affairs steering her through Zaun.
Upon her eventual descent down a series of rickety steps, Janna came to her senses - at least enough so that she didn't drift from her current path. The railing had long been stripped away, be it torn down or worn out by weather and time, but that didn't seem to make the beaten stairs any less traveled. It was only a matter of time before their wrapped body fell away from the column they were snaked around, sending travelers to their death in the series of pipelines hundreds of feet below. Zaun had been built originally as any city may have been, from the ground up, but that didn't mean the construction stopped underneath. The sewers were deep and trench-like, funneling into further depths and dangerous drops that led to nothing but vats of toxic waste. The lower she went, the more apparent the disparity was between Zaun and Piltover, the latter being a skyline capital that prospered. Zaun was likely considered an industrial misstep that proved unhealthy and caustic in most ways. How she had survived her years amongst the filth and rabble of the city, it was hard to say; though she rarely bothered to speak on the matter.
Those in Piltover lived posh, fortunate lives. She needn't burden them with a sense of dread.
Her movements never ceased, even if she seemed relatively prone while she did so, gliding along near silently in the darkening deeps. When her destination was finally reached, the location proved to be little more than an equally rickety shack built into the body of the massive metal column. Ducking through a door ajar, breath caught in her chest. Tight, forced breathing followed, but it was quite apparent she was finding more than she had planned for with this adventure. Across filthy sheets in a bed made of discarded scraps, something wheezed. Swallowing back her tears, her floating ceased, setting her on the ground next to the dying urchin, whose age seemed to have finally brought an end to his days. Cataract covered orbs stared up towards the ceiling, oblivious to the darkness of the unlit shack, while chapped raw lips barely moved with each stolen lungful of air. Janna hadn't felt so overwhelmed in quite some time, torn between fleeing the hellish squalor of the room, and fighting desperately to hold him tight to her bosom so her could share in her warmth. "I-I asked you to wait for me. I promised I would return."
Remaining close to the decrepit old man, she produce a small flame and lit a nub of candle, letting it flood the small, filthy building with cleansing light. Sadly, the imagery grew worse as she was given illumination to the details. Red welts covered the caved, starved torso of her own guardian, glaringly bright against his pale parchment-like flesh. The culprits of these wounds, cigarette butts, were still strewn in and around the bedding. Feces and filth coated him, releasing a toxic smell of the sewers, as well as the pungent aroma of death. Well calculated timing or not, Janna had come too late. Maybe he was trying to speak, but she could not make out the words, instead met with a soft gagging that was likely his throat closing around a folded tongue. There was nothing to give him, nor help to be offered. All that was left was to wait silently next to his side and acknowledge his life one last time.
"You have made me a liar it seems. I can't save you after all."
Her mentor died penniless and desecrated beneath their city of perpetual sin, but he did not die alone.
Hours would pass and Janna found herself unable to fully focus. Her plans had come undone at the seams, torn and tattered like her hopes, but moreso noticeable by how she seemed to wander. Where did she go and what was she to do? Had the league not been a means to this horrible end? A flash of memories all seemed to flood in at once, leaving her rather preoccupied. A smiling face and a kind word, food when she had needed it... A warm place to sleep that took her off the streets. The mage had once been a miscreant on the streets of Zaun, fugitive from the city run orphanage, and thief of the despicable perverts who inhabited the lower districts. Her earliest memories were dark and dreary, with acid rain and experiment victims being her only company at times. The horrors of the scientists and the upper class seemed to fall to the lower class, thrust upon it by the sheer ignorance and inconsideration it brought. The Medical practices of Zaun were far less humane than her master's finally living conditions were, so she was lucky to have found him as she had. At least the old man had been intact, for the most part.
Even as she drifted along in her dream-like, preoccupied state, there were signs of the times still present in plain view. Used needles scattered across the ground where barefoot street children played, or hanging posters bribing citizens to donate parts of their person to science - all of which had been so common place to her when she was still living within the city. Now it was a foreign hell in comparison to Piltover and she wished only to leave...
Yet the buxom blonde stayed and reminisced for the time being, appearing glassy eyed and confused. Everything had a reason, yet nothing made sense. What did she have left? [/spoiler]
ยป One could make out faint sounds as they traversed the cityscape, distant voices echoing through the shallow darkness of the metropolis; Zaun was never quiet. Instead it thrummed with dark energy, pulsing from stoop to door step like the thumping of a massive heart. This organ had no emotion, nor thoughts of it's own, yet it gave access to the pumping citizens who ushered through the evening as though it was in tune with their steps. The Storm's Fury moved with purpose, against the currents of the pedestrian crowd, unimpressed. Her agenda led elsewhere, down through the catacombs that fed deep towards the core sector, with the dying sounds of Zaun's citizens flushed by distance. It wasn't until she had entirely broken from the rest of the nightlife that she eased her pace, regardless now difficult it may have seemed to do so, floating along as she did. So focused on her destination, she seemed oblivious to the rest of the world; locked away mentally by the personal affairs steering her through Zaun.
Upon her eventual descent down a series of rickety steps, Janna came to her senses - at least enough so that she didn't drift from her current path. The railing had long been stripped away, be it torn down or worn out by weather and time, but that didn't seem to make the beaten stairs any less traveled. It was only a matter of time before their wrapped body fell away from the column they were snaked around, sending travelers to their death in the series of pipelines hundreds of feet below. Zaun had been built originally as any city may have been, from the ground up, but that didn't mean the construction stopped underneath. The sewers were deep and trench-like, funneling into further depths and dangerous drops that led to nothing but vats of toxic waste. The lower she went, the more apparent the disparity was between Zaun and Piltover, the latter being a skyline capital that prospered. Zaun was likely considered an industrial misstep that proved unhealthy and caustic in most ways. How she had survived her years amongst the filth and rabble of the city, it was hard to say; though she rarely bothered to speak on the matter.
Those in Piltover lived posh, fortunate lives. She needn't burden them with a sense of dread.
Her movements never ceased, even if she seemed relatively prone while she did so, gliding along near silently in the darkening deeps. When her destination was finally reached, the location proved to be little more than an equally rickety shack built into the body of the massive metal column. Ducking through a door ajar, breath caught in her chest. Tight, forced breathing followed, but it was quite apparent she was finding more than she had planned for with this adventure. Across filthy sheets in a bed made of discarded scraps, something wheezed. Swallowing back her tears, her floating ceased, setting her on the ground next to the dying urchin, whose age seemed to have finally brought an end to his days. Cataract covered orbs stared up towards the ceiling, oblivious to the darkness of the unlit shack, while chapped raw lips barely moved with each stolen lungful of air. Janna hadn't felt so overwhelmed in quite some time, torn between fleeing the hellish squalor of the room, and fighting desperately to hold him tight to her bosom so her could share in her warmth. "I-I asked you to wait for me. I promised I would return."
Remaining close to the decrepit old man, she produce a small flame and lit a nub of candle, letting it flood the small, filthy building with cleansing light. Sadly, the imagery grew worse as she was given illumination to the details. Red welts covered the caved, starved torso of her own guardian, glaringly bright against his pale parchment-like flesh. The culprits of these wounds, cigarette butts, were still strewn in and around the bedding. Feces and filth coated him, releasing a toxic smell of the sewers, as well as the pungent aroma of death. Well calculated timing or not, Janna had come too late. Maybe he was trying to speak, but she could not make out the words, instead met with a soft gagging that was likely his throat closing around a folded tongue. There was nothing to give him, nor help to be offered. All that was left was to wait silently next to his side and acknowledge his life one last time.
"You have made me a liar it seems. I can't save you after all."
Her mentor died penniless and desecrated beneath their city of perpetual sin, but he did not die alone.
----
Hours would pass and Janna found herself unable to fully focus. Her plans had come undone at the seams, torn and tattered like her hopes, but moreso noticeable by how she seemed to wander. Where did she go and what was she to do? Had the league not been a means to this horrible end? A flash of memories all seemed to flood in at once, leaving her rather preoccupied. A smiling face and a kind word, food when she had needed it... A warm place to sleep that took her off the streets. The mage had once been a miscreant on the streets of Zaun, fugitive from the city run orphanage, and thief of the despicable perverts who inhabited the lower districts. Her earliest memories were dark and dreary, with acid rain and experiment victims being her only company at times. The horrors of the scientists and the upper class seemed to fall to the lower class, thrust upon it by the sheer ignorance and inconsideration it brought. The Medical practices of Zaun were far less humane than her master's finally living conditions were, so she was lucky to have found him as she had. At least the old man had been intact, for the most part.
Even as she drifted along in her dream-like, preoccupied state, there were signs of the times still present in plain view. Used needles scattered across the ground where barefoot street children played, or hanging posters bribing citizens to donate parts of their person to science - all of which had been so common place to her when she was still living within the city. Now it was a foreign hell in comparison to Piltover and she wished only to leave...
Yet the buxom blonde stayed and reminisced for the time being, appearing glassy eyed and confused. Everything had a reason, yet nothing made sense. What did she have left? [/spoiler]
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.