Power Vacuum. (GP fanfiction)
There are some things that can't always be healed instantly with obscenely large quantities of citrus. Second and third degree burns from detonating gunpowder included. It had been creeping up on a week before Gangplank had regained consciousness, and even then he was bed-ridden, constantly attended by all manner of health-professionals. Magical treatment, and anything generally magical, was expensive in Bilgewater, but Gangplank had all manner of hidden troves of plundered treasure that he ordered his remaining loyalists to collect. Although each would turn in a sizable sum, they were but handfuls of sand in the beach of his previous wealth. That he had just lost because of some dense serving wench who now even dared call herself one of Bilgewater's 'Monarchy' who had somehow acquired some exceptionally heavy artillery. She'd been on his watch list for a while, but her hotheadedness was something that Gangplank had considered to result in a full scale assault of the docks that could be told in sagas, not getting revenge like a damn pansy who couldn't even confirm her kill. B*tch Fortune and company would pay for this, no doubts about it. And any other hooligan who even thought themselves worthy of being royalty for that matter.
It took a fortnight before Gangplank was on his feet again, his stubborn constitution supported only by a walking cane and mild painkillers. Standing tall once more, Gangplank asked for one thing. "Orange, now." His newly appointed first mate and sole attendant, by the name of Jon, stepped forward with the fruit in hand. Snatching the fruit, Gangplank bit into it like one would an apple, peel and all. Those present were simply stunned, but not for the obvious reason of disapproval of the unconventional method. Gangplank only did this when he was completely serious, not allowing the merest shred of humor or trivia to pass through his mind. And those times were rare and were saved for occasions of utmost importance, unlike the antics of two lovebirds prior to his hospitalization. "Jon, how fares the port at this moment?" "C-Chaos, Cap'n. Without your guidan-" Jon was stopped as Gangplank poised his blade at Jon's jugular. "Facts, boy! Circumstances here don't need any of those sorts of words. Correct yerself." he said, sheathing the blade. Gulping briefly in fear, Jon composed himself before continuing. "Chaos is the best description I can give, Cap'n. Low-lives are rising up in the slums with all manner of factions and ransacking anyone they will, while B*tch Fortune and her crew drink themselves silly for 'taking down the authority'." Gangplank grimaced slightly, the thought of his city so quickly falling into anarchy while his would-be successor does nothing to shoulder the responsibility. Just like his 'Pa had done with his, before it was too late. "'Parrently you can't trust yer killer to deal with the consequences anymore. What about the troves I sent'cha out to find?" "Only managed to gain nine, Cap'n. Others were found by others or that our crew di'n't have the manpower to get the treasure." Gangplank sat down on a small crate, contemplating the information. "Tell me the names of the troves you found." "Lovebird, Yellowtail, Saltspear, Ung'jen, Bloodwater, Pixdust, Saol, Windworn and Adamantium, Cap'n." Gangplank was deep in thought, using his fingers to calculate an estimate of ridiculously high capital. Minutes of quiet mumbling on the cargo crate passed before Gangplank returned to the real world. "That be fine for the while. Doctors' fee at least is accounted for, and high-fee mercs should be fine for the next few moons until we can get to a few more troves that only I can handle." Gangplank muttered before turning to Jon. "Don't have fear, lad. The men did a fine job for what they had, and what they hadn't. I wish to see the rest of the crew now, to declare that the king ain't yet dead." He said, patting him briefly on the back before making his way to the door, being met with raucous cheer of his loyal crew.
The caravel Hieldeger was moored outside of Spearhead, a coastal town to the far north of the Bilgewater Isles, far away from the notice of Fortune and any other mother-lover who had only gone out raiding to the Comercia Channels that Valoran factions used for most naval trade. Salvaged from the ruins of an old Noxian outpost, the weird mix of functional stone structures and Tudorian designs were definitely an eyesore to the more cultured. But the ease of travel to an island with no significant mineral wealth made it inconspicuous and therefore good camouflage. My crew have actually learned something after all this time, Gangplank thought. On the deck stood two-dozen of his old crew, celebrating the Captain's return with booze, meat and, of course, fruit. There were others celebrating in the docks and town, but the lack of concern for fruit told Gangplank how new they were. The excitement and celebration was abruptly halted, however, by Gangplanks own pistol. "MY FRIENDS!" Gangplank roared above the wash of the tides with all the prowess a leader could hope for. "Me hearties, there were dire winds that swept us down hard. So hard that many of our fellows were caught and swept away by cruel fate. But that be only the beginning of the wild storm that awaits us! Bilgewater reels in its own filth while no responsibility is shouldered by its harbinger! The monster cults rule the minds of the people, leaving them weak like lambs to their unrequited faith! Instead of plundering the profitable for honor, they plunder the meek and lowly for naught but for the slightest taste of thrill! They toppled the King, only to not notice that they be ripping themselves apart like rabid dogs!" The crowd remained silent in sheer respect for their Captain's integrity and proficiency as a leader. Here was a man who had just been on the verge of death, yet already was he talking about the future and the people of Bilgewater. Perhaps he had been considering it all along, but only Gangplank would know the truth to that question. "So, me hearties, I ask ye once more to follow me! The chance of death along my path is great, but you shall not die forgotten. Even those who remain shall not go forgotten into the sea. All those who follow under this banner, my banner, will be remembered til the world is ripped apart by whatever forces dare! So, to those few who took up the oath during my first years, I ask you. To those remaining that swore fealty to me, I ask you. To those who do not wish their homes and family ruined by this tragedy, I ASK YOU! DO YOU STAND WITH ME!" In a world deafening cacophony was the answer. Yes.
Quietly, Gangplank slid back into his quarters, thoroughly exhausted and exhilarated by his own speech while still relying on medicine to remain even remotely conscious. His back growing heavy and weighted, he decided for a nap in preparation of the setting sun. "That was truly an impressive speech, Duce d'Orange." Someone spoke gruffly from the shadows. On mere instinct alone, Gangplank raised his pistol at an emerging figure, only to halt at what it had called him. "Be you an acquaintance of Jericho?" Gangplank smirked, his tone conveying a tenuously complex relation with the Tyrant. Only that man would dare have the wit and power to call him that name. "Close, but not quite." The figure said, stepping out of the shadows into the twilight of the cabin window. "And before you ask, this is not the real Swain. Why would I traverse across the treacherous sea to talk with an injured sailor when I can just use a golem?" The uncanny magical construct in the form of a hairless cloaked Swain said. "Ha!" Gangplank laughed, "Last time we had the pleasure of talking you wanted me guts for garters!" "Might I note to you that was an official Noxian pledge, not my pledge. Besides, there are more important matters at hand." "My supposed death?" "More like the potential anarchy that will spiral out of it. Your plunder business is decently sustainable, as annoying and controversial that comment might be, you are moderately entertaining to negotiate with-" "Moderately entertaining?" "You are a calculating and considerate man at heart, although that doesn't shine out well when your allies are bloodthirsty pirates. You can think of the bigger picture, and so can turn down offers of money and I could go much deeper into this but it isn't exactly an easy thing to explain in the limited time this golem has remaining. Consider it a part of my madness if you will. But, as I was saying, you also had the benefit of having one of the most efficient sea monster elimination businesses Eastern Valoran. If that business were to slow down for the numerous months with logistics and everyone out to kill another, then the likelihood of swarms forming rises dramatically enough to pose a significant threat to coastal settlements and naval activity in this region. Needless to say, that is something that I do not wish my people to deal with. Several other factions would very likely share similar sentiment if that occasion arises. So it would be greatly appreciated to have someone who at least knows what they are doing to be ruling Bilgewater, as lackluster of a negotiable party you are." "Ha! Ahahaha! Ya truly are a strange and funny man, Jericho." "Not as funny as the help I can give you." "A Noxian peacekeeper force?" "On the contrary, I can give you nothing. I don't want any ties between the two of us, as the consequences could be very damaging on my end. I can, however, tell you the location of shipments of Noxian apricots and peaches." "Apricots and... peaches?" "You know, to provide the resources to stone traitors." Gangplank's laughter echoed in the empty cabin, as his crew partied outside and the golem faded to dust. It would be like old times then, when he was nothing more than a kid. No rules to hold him back, just a general goal that would be never ending once he reached it. All the honor, struggle, women problems, and the thrill of it all. It was back again. Whether or not Gangplank was thankful that this was back, it was too complex to answer. But nonetheless, it was back.
And that's my take on the whole GP return thing. It's not flashy and interactive like Tahm or Karthus, just a slow recovery of magic and medicine that would have likely been available. The last paragraph was also my own take on Swain and is going to be a side story to Pebbles along the Path, my fanfiction about Xerath and his adventures in the world and his waifus. I'm not sure about censoring Fortune's nickname since we don't see much swearing here (I tend to think that having it is pretty important, but it's very hard to use effectively and an excess can be extremely annoying) so I'm hesitant on using it in the manner I've used. It's not particularly harmful so there should be no problem, and this was something I did all the time on the old forums so people would have been annoyed by it at this point.