Tales from Runeterra - The Force of Indignation

"Is this really all ya've got?"

The woman recoiled against the wall in a sobbing heap with her arms covering her head against the cutthroat's assault. "Honest, sir, we're not wealthy! We hardly have much to give!"

The poor town sat close to the border of Demacian territory. Being so far from the capital, it saw little protection and had become a popular target for brigands to hit. The town was almost destitute at this point and the people in it had been either dying or fleeing. What few stayed, as this woman had done, only saw more suffering. And as the townsfolk's homes were now lit up with fire, it seemed like this would be the last of it one way or another.

"You're lyin'. There's hardly a copper coin in this take! Where's the rest of it?" the bandit leader seethed.

"Y-you took it all!" the woman cried, "We can't make more than you take... we just can't! Please, just let us live!"

The brigand held a knife against her throat at that; her eyes watered as she braced herself. "You tellin' us what to do, ya goddamn bitch?"

She sobbed quietly, "N-no... no... W-we just don't have anything left... we're practically starving already... please..."

The bandit glared down at her for a few moments before turning and standing up straight. "Oi, Morris! What'd we get so far?"

Another of his group had been beating a young man in visceral glee on the opposite side of the square; he turned when he heard his name and called back, "'S'bout a week's worth. These goddamn sods ain't got much to their names, have they?"

The first bandit turned back toward the woman and clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Not a good pull at all, is it? Tell ya what. If you can get your folk to rally together at least another week's worth of pay, we'll let ya go."

She swallowed solemnly before her response. "W-we... we really d-don't have anything else to g-give... y-you've burned what little else we had left..."

Aww, darlin'. Guess there ain't much I can do for ya then," the bandit sneered before shouting to his comrades. "A'ight, boys! Looks like they ain't payin' up, so we're just gonna have ta put 'em down."

The woman flattened herself against the wall behind her as if it were to give way at any moment - she had nowhere to run, nothing she could do. She braced for the worst as the bandit's knife pushed slowly into her skin. She could hear others dying around her as the bloodthirsty cutthroats had their way with the place.

Then a guttural cry of agony broke through, a deep one from one of the brigands, followed by a loud, earth-shaking thud. The one in front of her released the pressure on the knife and turned around - Morris was lying face down on the ground, blood covering his skull. There was a massive hammer stuck in the ground beside him, but no owner. The leader dropped her and turned quickly, muttering fearful curses. It was only a split second before a hulking figure took him off his feet in a headlong tackle.

The woman watched now as the other bandits scrambled toward the figure that was now wailing on their leader, specks of blood dotting the ground as it rained off of the figure's gauntlets. Whoever - or whatever - it was had a hood over its head and wore plate-mail that belied its agility. As the other bandits set upon the figure, it turned swiftly to face them before bolting for the hammer that lay embedded in the ground. The figure ducked beneath a brigand's blade before grasping hold of the hilt of the hammer and, with a shout, flung it once again at the attacker. The man's body seemingly shattered from the force, and it flew from the warrior like a ragdoll. It wasn't long before two more set upon her, visible fear in their eyes. They knew their mistake but far too late as she made short work of them, throwing one against the other before grabbing their heads and crushing them into the ground with a sickening crack.

The hooded figure stood now over her victims in silence. Other surviving townsfolk looked on in utter shock; whatever criminals survived had fled in terror, all from one being. The stepped over to the hammer and took hold of it at the base of the head before walking over to the woman against the wall. Now slumped on the ground, she looked up as the figure knelt in front of her and pulled away the hood.

What was before her was a woman of unparalleled size and might. Her head was shaven, but the roots shone a bright silver in the light from the flames. Her left eye was a pale, milky color, and along with a missing ear were a number of small scars dotting her cheek. Her jaw was disjointed as if it had once been broken, but as she spoke, the words came out clean. "Gather the survivors. Leave this town and move to a city. You will find no justice for yourselves out here."

Timidly, the peasant woman nodded. But as she went to stand, she flinched in fear as she heard an arrow thud into the warrior woman's back. She could do nothing but stare as the massive figure's eyes narrowed, and she stood to her full, towering height. The warrior turned to face her assailant - one last bandit looking for a cheap shot. She began calmly trudging toward him.

He nocked another arrow and let it fly. It embedded itself once again in the warrior's armor, but she didn't even flinch from the impact.

The bandit began to step back as if to run, but a light began to shine around the hulking woman - an awful, terrifying light. The man fell backward, fearfully dragging himself away as she neared him. He moved slower and slower until fear enveloped him.

He now lay on his arm, gazing fearfully up at the woman, one hand raised to block the light from his eyes. "P-please," he whimpered, "have mercy. I swear I'll make amends. Just let me live!"

The light faded away, and he moved his hand down - the woman still stood before him, the fire from the buildings reflected in her eyes. She took hold of the arrow in her chest and pried it out in one movement; not a spot of pain could be found on her face. With no emotion, she said in a low tone, "Your kind will learn to fear the light of justice, for I cannot be sated by cries of mercy." As she raised her hammer above her head, she shouted, "I will be sated by the blood of damned souls like you."

The burning frames of the homes collapsed as the ground trembled from the impact. Smoke and ash swirled in excess through the air. The survivors of the attack all scrambled to leave the area before anything else happened. The warrior woman picked up her blood-drenched hammer, still fixated on the lifeless eyes frozen with fear.

She muttered to that fearful corpse, "I am indignation."