'Best Served Cold' A fanmade piece of Lore for Varus that I made.

So I was slightly inspired by "Shadow and Fortune", and thought i'd try and do something similar for Varus. Cause um, I like Varus. Perfect Reasoning right?

Jokes aside, here's my attempt at an extended lore story. Feel free to tell me what you think, but most of all, enjoy! :)

Best Served Cold

“Beware a Man with nothing to lose”

Chapter 1

If there was a single word that could describe Noxus, ‘Unforgiving’ is it. The biting cold of the city’s streets and alleys on a cold winter’s night served that mark well. While the other city states tried to keep their residents warm during the winter, Noxus stays intentionally cold throughout the season. They believe that the cold helps to prepare soldiers in Noxus, makes a man stronger. Winter is when there are less Noxian citizens around, and more soldiers patrolling the city, struggling through their duties in the stinging chill.

Varus’s timing could not have been more perfect.

Cloaked in a green shawl of Ionian silk, Varus made sure to cover his entire form as he walked the empty streets of hard stone, hunched over as not to arouse attention. His body was far too…noticeable to stay undisguised. Him even being in Noxus was practically a death wish, but he had no choice if he was to keep his promise.

Only 16 left

As he unassumingly walked halfway past one of the local taverns, he paused. He could feel his hand gravitating slowly towards the building. Varus was very familiar with this sensation, he knew exactly what it meant.

His target was in there. He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the tavern’s splintered wooden sign. ‘The Bloody Halberd’. Brutal and unimaginative, how very Noxian.

Without wasting a moment he entered through the creaking doors, the sounds within become far louder to him now. Varus took a moment to observe his surroundings. The tavern was mostly full of loud regulars, a mix of off-duty guards and beggars using their precious little coin to drown away their sorrows.

Varus took a seat at an empty table near the door, making sure to stay concealed in his cloak. He scanned the room for his target. On his own there’s no way he’d find it, which is where his blank, violet eyes came in handy. When his eyes met with the body of his target, they began to blur in a brief purple haze.

Found him.

A grizzled commander, aged around 40 or so, sat clad in dark armour at the back of the tavern, surrounded by 3 of the local courtesans.

Varus grinned, and sat in wait to make his move. He sat motionless for another 13 minutes or so, still grinning. An archer’s most important skill of course….is patience.

Suddenly the commander downs the rest of his drink, than heaves his heavy body from the large, cushioned seat. Grabbing his flagon, he turned back to his companions and gave them a quick wink. The girls all giggled as he went to sit at the bar.

“Oi!”, he bellowed, “Another pint of mead, on the double!” The overworked barkeep rolled his eyes, before taking the commander’s glass and wiping it with a murky rag. The commander impatiently drummed his fingers on the Iron-oak surface, yawning loudly. In this time, Varus had already taken a seat beside him.

The commander grunted and turned his head towards the unfamiliar figure aside him.

“Covered up enough there, friend?” he impolitely asked.

Varus took a moment to respond to his target.

“Apologies,” he replied in a light tone, “I’m from Shurima, not used to the cold, sir.”

“Bah!” the commander scoffed, “The Soldiers over there must be wimps if they can’t take the cold!”

Varus chuckled quietly, but was greatly amused inside. This ignorant fool still thinks Shurima has any kind of military.

Moments later, the barkeep returned with an overflowing flagon of mead and set it loudly in front of the Commander.

“Put It on my tab.” He said with a single breath of laughter. The barkeep smiled back politely, then rolled his eyes again. This “Tab” had been going for about 2 years without the commander paying back a penny of it. The Barkeep however knew better than to challenge a high ranking Noxian official, so he let it slide as always.

The commander grabbed the flagon with his massive hand and began to stand up. This was what Varus was waiting for. He interrupted the commander and thrusted his covered face towards the other end of the bar.

“Oh! What’s that!” he cried out. The commander gullibly turned his fat face towards the end. While his target was distracted, Varus swiftly but subtly uncovered his grotesque hand, covered in dark corruption, and moved it over the flagon. He quietly scratched his thumb with the misshapen nail of his middle finger. Faints flakes of a dark material came off and feel into the drink, dissolving as they hit the mead. Varus quickly retracted his hand back under his shawl.

“What, what?” spat the commander as he turned back towards Varus.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied innocently, “thought I saw something is all.”

The commander scoffed again, before grabbing his flagon and standing up from the stool, relieving it of the intense load. “That damn sun’s driven you people mad!” he agitatedly said as he returned to his ladies, “Maybe I should come and talk to you Shurimans about proper awareness!”

“Wonderful idea.” Varus said to himself quietly as he began to leave the tavern, “Send the late emperor my regards.”

Varus left the tavern and once again began walking down the cold street. After he’d reached a few blocks down, a sudden burst of sound and activity could be heard from The Bloody Halberd. Shootings and murmurings, with the occasional scream of horror.

“Oh gods!” Varus heard faintly, “His head just melted away!”

This confirmation pleased Varus. He began to chuckle to himself as he continued down towards the market.

Only 15 left.

Chapter 2

Varus was almost at the end of his journey. For the past 7 years he had been mercilessly hunting down those that sacked his village and killed his family. Overcome with rage, he dived into the very pit of darkness that he had sworn to protect. He came out a changed man, half covered in corrupted flesh, and filled with dark thoughts of vengeance and justice. Overcome with grief and rage, he left Ionia with a vow to punish every man involved with the invasion. Soldiers, Generals, messenger boys, it didn’t matter. If they supported the operation, they would die.

Conveniently for Varus, his first act of justice was against a retired Noxian general, resting proudly in his summer cottage in the Noxian countryside. Back against the wall, a dark arrow of horrifying magic readied only a half a meter away from his face, he showed no hesitation in revealing all the details of the invasion to Varus. Exactly 128 men who were involved were alive, and Varus made sure not to forget their names. As he left the cottage, that number became 127.

It had certainly been a hard and dangerous few years for Varus, but he managed to successfully eliminate almost all of his targets, scouring Valoran to find their hiding places. Barely resting, eating only when necessary, he pressed on. Pure rage and determination was what fuelled him. With every kill he felt himself become stronger, as if the corruption that aided him fed on his anguish. In return however, the corruption assisted Varus in his mission, leading him to targets, as if able to read his thoughts. After ridding the land of his targets, he arrived at Noxus with his ever-shortening list of names, where he believed his journey would finally end. Only a few targets left, the highest ranking of them all, Varus had no doubt that Noxus is where they’d be holed up.

Sneaking over the outer walls of the city, and as he set his feet onto the cold ground, he could feel his corrupted skin shuddering in excitement. Wrapped in his shawl, Varus tightly grabbed the pendant around his neck, a good luck charm given to him by his mother, for hopefully the last time as he walked towards his mission’s end.

Chapter 4

As Varus continued past the markets and climbed the cobblestone hills, be began to wonder why the streets were so empty. While it was certainly cold, there were still a few hours left until midnight. It seemed odd that there’d be barely anyone around at this time of the day. For a moment Varus became concerned that this was perhaps all a trap for him, he was after all Noxus’s most wanted criminal. He slowed down his movement and, for the first time in a while, pondered. He slowly turned around, observing the barren streets. This was not some simple encampment, this was Noxus, the fortified city of his enemies. It would certainly make sense for the Noxians to try something agsaint him here, of all places. Is it possible that he had been so blinded by rage that Varus hadn’t prepared properly for such a bold operation?

Before he could consider the matter more, Varus suddenly heard faint, but distinct cheering from faraway. Brought back into reality, Varus twitched for a moment in shock. Then listened more. More cheering, coming from the East. The corruption inside Varus seemed to hungrily lurch towards the sounds, and Varus reluctantly made his way east, close to the city’s eastern gates. It took him some time to reach where the sounds were coming from, with the cheering becoming more and more intense as time went on. The only thing that distracted Varus was a large, collapsed statue, supposedly of one of Noxus’s great warriors. Massive in size, even in ruins, yet covered in moss after years of neglect. After observing it briefly, Varus quickly returned towards the commotion.

Varus reached the Iron District, a residential area for Noxus’s more middle-class citizens. After turning past a house at the end of the block, his eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of a massive structure, a stadium, in the centre of the district. A massive arena, lit by massive torches atop its stone walls, it was certainly impressive in size and scope. Architecture was certainly one of Noxus’s better qualities. There was no mistaking it, this is where all the noise was coming from. The corruption inside Varus yearned to get to it, and Varus planned to…if he only knew what exactly was going on. He spotted a woman nearby one of the houses. She was wearing a thick dress, and was busy sweeping her porch. She seemed to be the only person around in the area. Varus hesitantly approached her, to see if he could get dome information.

“Excuse me,” he asked her, putting on his best Shuriman accent again, “What exactly is going on over there?”

The woman paused her sweeping and turned to him, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

“Oh you don’t know?” She responded, scratching her cheek, “That’s the Blood Arena. I think the Fleshing’s going on there at the moment. Everyone’s there, not my kinda thing though.”

Varus nodded in thanks, then turned once more to face the massive stadium. He had heard of the Fleshing, one of Noxus’s most infamous traditions. A massive tournament, known for its brutality and high casualty count. It certainly made sense that the majority of the populace would be at the event. And not just civilians, but military officials too, perhaps even more of Varus’s targets. Now the real question was, how to get in there.

There were large stone stairs leading up to the arena’s entrance, a massive steel gate, closed and guarded by a couple of guards. No way was Varus getting in that way. He looked around the exterior more and spotted a more subtle entrance, less grandiose and lower than the other. He walked closer to it, and saw that a few low class civilians were getting in this way. It didn’t seem like any of the guards were stopping them though. Upon closer inspection however, this entrance was very crowded, with peasants trying to squeeze through. Didn’t seem like Varus would be able to get through this way either. Varus distanced himself from the massive structure and observed it more carefully, trying to find a more convenient way in. After a moment, he noticed a very large statue near the edge of the walls, presumably of a former Fleshing champion. It reached up about halfway to the top of the walls. This gave Varus an idea.

Varus walked to base of the statue, making sure not to get spotted by any guards patrolling the district. As the statue towered over him, Varus subtly looked around himself. After he was absolutely sure that no one would see him, he revealed his arm from his cloak. The grotesque, discoloured limb reached towards the head of the statue and stayed there for a moment. Varus closed his eyes, and winced slightly as a long, dark tendril burst from Varus’s palm and latched onto the neck of the statue. Varus grabbed it firmly and yanked it twice. After he was satisfied that the tendril was secure, he quickly retracted it, lifting himself up to the top himself. Once Varus was on top of the Statue’s left shoulder, he looked around once more to check if he was spotted. Thankfully the district still seemed empty. Varus breathed a sigh of relief, the tendril wrapped around his wrist. He then pointed his hand once again towards the top of the wall, and the tendril obediently launched and grabbed the edge tightly. After Varus was lifted to the top he quickly bent down and retracted the tendril back into his arm. The opening in his palm sealed almost instantly.

Varus checked around him once more just in case any guards were atop the wall with him. Thankfully, none were. Varus then stepped closer towards the centre of the arena, and got the full view of what was going on.

Chapter 4

There must have been at least 300 people in the arena, the stone seats that circled the edge were absolutely filled with spectators, roaring and cheering. In the centre of it was a large ivory platform, almost covered in blood, with weapons and corpses laying around. Around this platform were crowds of lower class citizens, pouring out from the entrance Varus had spotted earlier. Seemed that this was a way that less fortunate civilians could spectate the event, with the only obvious price being the occasional splash of blood or chance to get dragged into the fray.

The main event of course was happening on top of the platform. A man clad in light, dark armour wielding a spear was bouncing around in an attempt to dodge the axe of the massive brute he was facing against. Axe wielder was massive, a pale skinned colossus that didn’t even look human. A metal stool replacing one foot and a massive hole in his belly, with various other pieces of metal keep wounds from opening. It was a wonder how this beast was even still alive. The smaller warrior looked as if he had things covered, and moved in a cocky manner. Odds are though that he was fearing for his life, afraid of what end this colossus would grant him. The pressure certainly high for him, as the crowd was chanting and cheering in support of the pale giant. He dodged a large swing from the axe before readying a counter attack. Before he could move however, the giant swiftly heaved his weapon back, and struck the other fighter in the side with his axe. The axe cut deep in the warrior’s body, almost spitting him in two. Blood poured out of both his wound and his mouth, and he could look in fear at the monster before him. The giant grinned a menacing smile, before pulling his weapon out of his defeated opponent. The fallen fighter fell to the ground barely in once piece, and the pale giant wiped the blood off the head of his axe with his hands. The crowd roared in excitement at the giant’s victory, who dropped his axe and flexed in triumph.

Varus could feel his entire body trembling, the darkness inside him going wild in anticipation. There must have been at least 10 of Varus’s targets here. Varus tried to calm things down and looked through the spectators. The corruption identified targets scattered around the arena in its own way. One was blended into the crowd in plain clothes, another was even among the peasants crowded at the bottom. But the corruption was most of all leading Varus’s eyes to a large, royal canopy at the edge that took up a sixth of the Arena. Under this canopy was the royal throne, seat of Noxus’s Grand General, guarded by 4 members of the royal guard. Varus could tell that one of these guard’s was a target. Seated next to the General’s throne was an old man in robes, perhaps a personal friend of the General himself. The Blur in Varus’s eyes identified him too as a target. On the other side the Hand of Noxus himself, Darius, was seated. Another target, and certainly someone that Varus was aware of. But if he was here than that could only mean… Varus centred his vision on the figure sitting on the throne. The dark blur in Varus’s vision confirmed him to be a target, and the most valuable one of all.

Swain.

Chapter 5

Varus’s blood froze as he identified General. It’s no secret that the Noxian Invasion of Noxus was led by Swain, and the one act that got him promoted to Grand General. Varus beamed a wide grin, the corruption inside begging to have at the General. Varus struggled to resist the urge, the urge to fire an arrow right away at the pompous bastard. Varus breathed in heavily to relax himself. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, but if he attacked in such a position then failure would be probable. He knew of Swain’s knowledge of powerful sorcery, magic that would surely heal the wound of a single arrow. On top of that, if Varus attacked the General in such a way, his cover would be blown, and his mission would be made far harder. Instead he bent down lower and thought out a plan.

Varus had trouble thinking with deafening noise of the event however. There was a brief interval after the giant’s victory. The bodies of his victims were dragged off stage, and the beast stretched and cracked his knuckles in preparation for his next fight. Another man in ceremonial robes stepped onto the platform that extended out of the royal canopy. He raised his hands in request of silence. As the crowds of the arena silenced themselves for a moment, Varus was still struggling to formulate a plan. Given the situation, Varus considered striking against the General another, less risky time. The man in robes began to speak.

“Congratulations once again to our victor!” he spoke out loudly, “Who now dares to face against him?”

The crowd of peasants around the platform began to shuffle back. No one wanted to be picked in such a fight. The giant himself grew frustrated, he yearned badly for more. He was half ready to grab a spectator from the crowds around him.

Varus sighed and turned around, making his way to the edge of the wall. He’d decided that it would be best to plan a smarter plan of attack against the rest of his targets, especially Swain. The man spoke out once more.

“Is there no one here that would challenge our current champion, Sion?”

Varus froze, and his heart skipped a beat. Sion. A name that had been etched into his very being. Not only was he one of Varus’s targets, but he had learnt that Sion was the spear head of the assault against Varus’s village.

Varus was taken back to that fateful day. The day when his family was killed.

The image was burned into his mind. His village aflame, his friends lying dead on the ground, the Noxian horde marching off in the distance, the drums of war, the cries of battle. Varus’s home from been literally knocked down, as if trampled through by a large monster. Under the remains, all Varus could remember were his Mother’s body sticking out, and his father left slain outside. Varus knew now, the monster that did that. Sion.

Chapter 6

Varus’s blood boiled. At this one moment he felt more anger than what he felt the last 7 years combined. He grit his teeth, tears beginning to stream down his face. All the corruption on his skin writhed in response to his rage. It almost pulled Varus towards the arena, begging for him to make a kill. Varus’s mind was almost blank, except for pure rage. He didn’t care about his mission, he didn’t care about making it out of there. All he cared about was ending Sion, right there and then.

Varus threw off his shawl, revealing his entire gruesome form and marched angrily back towards the other edge of the wall. He extended his arm to his side as a mass of corruption erupted out of his hand, which quickly formed into a dark bow. In his other arm, Varus conjured multiple tendrils that stiffened and transformed into arrows. He stepped right to edge and took aim at the colossus in the centre. A few member of the crowd spotted him and became to point and murmur amongst themselves.

Holding back tears, Varus let fly. He fire 5 dark arrows in quick succession at Sion. The crowd gasped as the first 3 struck him in the back, shocked, Sion dropped his weapon and turned quickly, taking a defensive stance. What appeared to be blood magic erupted from the hole in his abdomen. It quickly formed a magical shield around him that blocked the last 2 arrows. The arrows that hit didn’t even seem to faze Sion, as they dissolved into nothingness. Sion’s shield dissolved soon after, as he and the rest of the spectators gazed at the lone archer on the roof, who was already readying more arrows.

Those in the Royal Canopy were also staring at Varus. Darius rose to a stand and readied his weapon in defence of his general. Swain too has risen, his raven flapping her wings in shock. The 4 members of the royal guard readied their crossbows in response and aimed them at the attacker. Most members of the crowd ducked down and covered their heads in fear they too may be targeted.

For a brief moment in the arena, barely anybody moved. Both the guards and Varus waited with their weapons ready, waiting for the other to make their move. Many emotions emerged at once inside Varus. Anger, sadness, regret, fear. His face was as serious and focused as could be, trying desperately not to show his tears. A few guards climbed up atop the walls and drew their swords, slowly approaching Varus. One of the royal guardsman spoke to another only a meter away from him.

“Hey, isn’t he that assassin who’s been taking out our men?”

The other squinted at Varus, trying to get a good look at him, then replied, “Damn, you’re right, it is!”

Those behind the guardsmen heard this exchange. Darius moved closer to Swain in his defence. The old man besides Swain moved in close as well to his ear.

“This man is dangerous, my lord,” he whispered, “He’s killed over a hundred of our men, all of them involved in the Ionian invasion years ago. That includes you, my lord. We should dispatch him now.”

Swain rose slowly before the old man could finish. Grabbing his cane, he shambled his way out of the canopy to the wooden platform that extended out of it, with Darius guarding him closely. The royal guard parted as Swain took the stage. He made himself a clear target for Varus, almost in an effort to mock him. Varus turned his attention to the general, but dared not to make a move against him. The audience’s attention was now alternating between Swain and Varus, waiting to see what either would do. Swain’s raven was perched on top of his shoulder staring intently at Varus, almost. Imagining him as her next meal. Darius has his weapon raises and his full attention on the archer. The tension in the arena was thick as could be.

After a brief moment, the crowd fell silent. Swain smiled to himself briefly and turned his head towards the Warrior in the centre.

“Sion.” He spoke out, the giant turned his attention towards the General. He neither liked nor respected Swain, but waited intently on what he had to say. He had a pretty good idea of what it would be.

“You want another opponent?” He said before pointing his crooked finger at Varus.

“There it is.”

Chapter 7

The crowd erupted with noise as Swain returned to his seat, his raven flying back to her original post. Varus’s sanity has returned, and he realized now that he was in big trouble. Before he could even escape, the guards moved in on him. 2 of them grabbed his shoulder whilst another restrained and tied up his hands. In a group effort they all pushed Varus off the edge of the wall into the arena, where 2 more guard caught him. They then dragged the struggling Varus down the stone stairs before throwing him again onto the Ivory platform. Varus rose to his knees, clutching his aching shoulder, before witnessing the beast before him.

Sion grinned as he lifted his weapon from the floor. He raised his massive hand to the air.

“Drums!” he bellowed.

On his command, a small band of drummers at one end of the stadium began to drum a warlike beat. Spectators began to clap along who the beat, some even chanting Sion’s name along to it. Varus focused himself, he was in a real tough spot. His main priority now was getting out of here alive. But first he’d have to deal with the brute in front of him. If he was lucky, he’d maybe even be able to kill Sion in the process.

Sion began to charge towards Varus, who quickly readied an arrow and fired it. But Sion had already expected this, and summoned his dark barrier again just in time to deflect the shot. He lifted his axe as he approached his opponent. Varus then quickly rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding a heavy strike from Sion’s axe. The blade cut deep, leaving a large crack in the platform. Varus quickly fired off two more arrows at Sion, which he shrugged off like bites from an insect. Sion expected such an evasive manoeuvre however, and only a second after the arrows hit, raised his arm in a backhand blow against Varus. It was a very blow against Varus’s head, who was knocked back a meter or so and dazed for a moment.

Instead of taking advantage and killing his stunned opponent Sion instead picked his weapon up and stood before Varus, laughing wildly at how easy the fight was. Varus returned to his senses with one hell of a headache. His situation had become even graver. He had to think of a plan and fast. Sion began to speak once more.

“So this is the man who’s bested over a hundred of our men?” Sion cried out to the crowd, “Our grand general’s forces have lost so many to this puny Ionian? HA! Pathetic!”

Over at the royal canopy, Darius growled at Sion’s insolence, yet Swain kept his calm composure. During the short distraction, Varus regained full awareness. It seemed that now that he truly was doomed. He became fearful, not of his life but of the growing possibility of his mission ultimately failing.

“I’ll show you how a REAL Noxian defends himself, General!” Sion bellowed to Swain, spitting on the ground.

The cheers of the crowd became even wilder as Sion readied another attack. He brushed his heavy boot across the ground, preparing to charge. In a flash of both desperation and inspiration however, this gave Varus an idea. He quickly grabbed the pendant around his neck. He held it tightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe his mother’s spirit was watching him, and could grant him the lucky he needed. He grinned and rose to his feet as he prepared for the giant’s attack.

Sion leapt forward and charged at his opponent, his axe readied to strike a lethal blow. The crowd quietened slightly, awaiting the next move. Varus slowly held his fist back as the colossus approached, and waited until just the right moment. Varus thrust his hand forward, as a massive thick tendril launched out of his palm. The large appendage grabbed Sion by the legs and wrapped itself round them both, before lesser tendril burst out from the original and latched themselves to the ground. Sion tripped as he and his weapon collapsed to the floor with a massive thud. The crowd gasped at this turn of events, and even Swain rose slightly in shock. Varus took full advantage of the commotion and readied his bow, He swiftly fired an arrow at one of the royal guardsmen. An instant kill. The crowd screamed in shock at this, as Varus fired another 3 arrows at the other 3 guardsman. They dropped dead to the floor as one. The atmosphere of the arena had changed in an instant, as most of the spectators were now ducking down again in fear. Many were even trying to run out of the peasant’s entrance. Darius quickly moved in front of Swain, who was surprisingly still remaining calm.

Varus’s usual, confident composure had returned. His family’s killer on the ground before him and the Grand General of Noxus cowering in fear. Varus could feel the corruption reacting gleefully to the slaughter, as it pulsated slightly through his skin.

This. This is what he was living for.

There was another pause, the arena was emptying with terrified citizens crowding the exits. Sion, filled with rage, struggled to free himself from the tendril that bound him to the ground. Varus had an arrow readied and aimed at Darius. Most of the guards had crossbows aimed at Varus, awaiting orders from their superiors. Other guards drew their swords and slowly began to move towards Varus. He looked around himself. Approximately 8 Guards were ready to intercept him. Varus quickly logged the position mentally of each one, noticing that 3 of them were his targets. Ironically, this previously damning scenario had become quite perfect for Varus.

Darius raised his hand and gave the guards their order.

“Fire!” he shouted.

“As you wish.” Varus said quietly to himself.

Chapter 8

A round of bolts were released towards Varus, who rolled quickly away, readying his own round. The bolts all hit the same location of the platform, missing their target. 2 arrows, 2 dispatched guards.

Darius grit his teeth in frustration, and gave the order to fire once again. As the guardsmen hastened to reload, Varus took out the 3 guards that tried to advance on him with swords. Now only 3 guards remained, each firing their crossbows once more. Varus leapt out of the way, successfully evading their bolts. The corruption continued to tremble in glee, the sensation almost overriding Varus’s pain. Even Varus himself was enjoying this wonderful turn of events.

Things were not in Varus’s favour for long however, as he noticed that Darius had jumped onto the platform, ready to take out the archer himself. Even Swain was approaching, ready to intercept himself with a powerful spell. Swain’s old companion had since disappeared, probably joining the escaping spectators.

Varus felt something inside him weaken. He turned his attention to Sion, who was beginning to tear the tendrils off of him. Varus’s grin changed to a more serious look. Varus wanted nothing more than to kill off Sion, Darius and Swain all at once. The corruption was even calling, begging him to do so. Yet deep down he knew that attacking all three at once would be futile. He quickly realized that now he had to do something he hadn’t done in a long time. Run.

Catching the Noxians off guard, Varus suddenly bolted for the door. He leapt off the platform and pushed his way through the crowd of citizens.

Sion, finally free, grabbed his axe and ran for his target with intense rage. Darius followed suit, ordering the remaining guardsmen to catch Varus. Swain cancelled his spell, and left things to the 2 warriors before him.

Varus shoved his way through the crowd and out of the arena escaping into the district. As He looked back to see Sion, shoving through the remaining civilians trying to escape, caring little for their wellbeing. Varus breathed heavily before turning and running towards the city’s eastern walls. When Sion finally got through the outside of the arena, his target was nowhere to be seen, seemingly managing to escape in the chaos. He roared and slammed his fist into the ground in frustration. Darius joined him shortly after. Noticing too that Varus had disappeared, he grunted and ordered the men close to him to find the archer. He then turned and returned back inside the arena.

By this point, the stadium was almost empty, save for Darius, a few guards cleaning up the mess, and Swain, who had surprisingly recovered his usual calm demeanour so soon after the events prior. His raven was busy feasting on a corpse nearby.

The Hand of Noxus joined his general on the canopy.

“We lost him,” he sighed, “He’s a fast little bastard, I’ll give him that.”

Swain acknowledged his report, and made his way back to his throne.

“Mm, no surprise there.” He responded, taking his seat, “If some of our finest commanders failed to best him then I highly doubt THAT oaf could.”

Swain nodded towards Sion, who was being forcefully returned by 5 guardsman back to his holding chambers.

“Still,” Swain continued, as his Raven returned to his shoulder, “Nice to see him finally feeling some humiliation, I’d been meaning to get back at him one way or another.”

Darius turned towards Swain in shock.

“You..you KNEW this would happen?!” He sputtered.

“Oh yes,” Swain replied, “As soon as he showed up atop that wall, I had a fairly decent idea of how things would play out. So I thought I’d play around with the scenario, see if I could make it work in my favour.”

Darius was still slightly startled.

“They don’t call me ‘The Master Tactician’ for nothing, you know.” He continued, leaning back further into his throne.

“So then why didn’t you—“ Darius began.

“Make no mistake,” Swain interrupted, “I’m not going to allow such a threat run free. I’ll get him, don’t you worry.”

Darius sighed, and returned to the seat beside his general.

“Double the guard.” Swain said to him, “Hang up more wanted posters. If he dares to come to this city again…he’ll regret it. I’ll make sure the entire city sees his failure. Besides, your brother has been asking for a big show lately, hasn’t he?”

Darius slumped into his seat, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh gods,” he grumbled, “don’t remind me.”

Chapter 9

About an hour later, Varus had successfully escaped the city and retreated back to his camp. A small little tent inside a small cave. Subtle, just how he needed it to be. Exhausted, he made himself some traditional Ionian green tea by the campfire, and was tending his wounds. Today had not gone quite as Varus planned, he was annoyed that such a moment of rage made his efforts a whole lot harder. He kicked himself mentally, annoyed that he practically let 7 years of effort go to waste in an instant. He pictured Sion in front of him. Varus vowed that even if his quest failed he would at least take down that beast. Varus sighed though, he was still miraculously alive however, and that meant he could continue his mission. He took the boiled water off of the fire, finished making his tea. Ironically, despite being one of the toughest and most intense days of the last 7 years, this was perhaps the first time since that day Varus felt truly calm. Not quite at peace with everything that had happened, but getting there, soon. He gently grabbed the his mother’s pendant and looked to the outside of the cave, at the night sky, and began to speak to himself,

“Thank you” End