I got bored, so I wrote a Draven story.

I'm not a writer, so don't expect much, but I feel kind of proud of what I did. Feedback is welcome.

I heard the crowd before i had even opened my eyes.

I wouldn't be much use, a blindfold, I can't see worth a poro's rear ends.

I heard them jeering, booing, and insulting something.

Kill him? Is that what they're saying?

Wait; why am I being dragged around?

Where am I? Smells like horse manure, seriously.

Whoever the hell is holding me lets go, the dirt on the ground sure doesn't feel pleasant to be dropped on.

I can actually remove my blindfold now and I do so gladly.

Oh. Great.

Noxus, that one arena that they send prisoner; whatever they call it. Flashing? Does it matter?

The crowd seems wild right now, screaming, yelling, shouting, seemingly at me. What did I do?

What the hell is go-. Oh dear god no. I'm being executed

Whirring, like a blade being swung in an arc, but it isn't stopping, continuing on and on as though someone were spinning like the captain of the Dauntless Vanguard.

A low drum starts beating and crowd begins cheering; chanting for someone. Definitely not me.

It's been a while and I can actually start to make out a word in their chant, a name.

Draven.

Before I can try and remember where I've heard that name, the drums stop, the whirring blade stops, and all thats left to hear is a loud, cocky voice screaming at the stands, stirring up a bloodlust only true Noxians show.

"By order of the High General of Noxus, you are hereby yadayadayada, blah blah blah, and are to be executed by the morrow. Sorry, I just really wanted to get to the fun part. Anyways, any one out there want to see blood!"

The crowd responds with an roaring cheer that is a short step away from deafening me and this 'Draven' behind me.

"Well then, who do we have here for tonight's entertainment... oh boy, my favorite, Demacian! Do you know how this game works, Demacian?" he says to me in a pitiful, almost mocking tone, but quickly turning to the audience around me, "It seems he doesn't get what we do here, should I tell him, my fine people?!"

Another roar loud enough to falter a charging army.

Now I can actually see him, he's been walking slowly around the stone I'm chained to, and now that he's made it into my field of view, I can see what this Noxian bastard looks like. Medium height, somewhat muscular, and dressed in unusual attire, almost like that worn by Zaunite circus performers. He wears a thin mustache running below his chin, placed upon a cocky face of someone who believes they are a god, and topped off by tall hair with a thin crown holding it up. On his back re two circular object, at leas from what I can see, probably decorative. Different from your average Noxian would be an understatement.

He takes a knee directly in front of me and begins using his mock pity once more, "Well my boy in blue, we set you free, and you run. If you make it out that gate, your free to go. What do you say? Give it a shot?" he asks.

It would almost be amusing if I wasn't the subject; he makes it sound like I have a choice. I'm getting my beheaded, it's not like I can run. I do the only thing that seems appropriate in the moment and spit directly in the eye of the Noxian.

Standing once again, Draven screams out to the crowd,"Well it seems our friend wants his freedom!" once at the end of his little statement, he points at an unseen figure behind me, a figure which just removed the shackles that held me down. "Run, run, run all the way back to your precious prince."

As astonished as I feel, I actually find the strength to get up, and I just now notice how silent the crowd has been after he told me to run.

I start in a slow trot, making little progress towards the open gate, but eventually I make it into a steady run, and by that time the same whirring sound produced when he walked in begins again. The crowd is chanting out his name, over and over again.

Feeling a rising sense of panic, I make a mad dash for the gate hoping whatever is behind me doesn't stop me before I reach the gates.

Finally, the crowd ends their chant as I get within a few yards of the gate, and the whirring sound gets louder and louder.

No, not louder; closer.

Time slows, all becomes silent except the sound of my breath and the whirring of whatever it is getting closer. I look back to see what is approaching and only see one thing.

Spinning death; steel flying through the air towards me, spinning at an incredible rate. Draven himself stands with his back turned to me, taking in the energy from the crowd, one ornamental piece removed from his back. And it is in these last few seconds I have left, I remember what happens in this arena.

Not executions, entertainment.