I noticed that Jax hasn't had any lore for almost 2 years now, so I decided to write some for him!
_ This is the first time I've ever done something like this, so I apologize in advance for my hamfisted writing. Feedback and suggestions are welcome, of course! Hope you all have as much fun reading this as I did writing it._*
_ P.S. It's a pretty long post. You've been warned!_*
Magnus emptied his fourth cup of draught, the sound of gulping in his ears drowning out the clash of steel and labored grunts of the combatants in the pits below. He leaned over the railing to see two young Noxians, barely old enough to grow beards, with swords limp in their hands but eyes still trying to cut their opponent in two.
Their youth stained the walls and floor of the ring, each fighter unable to tell whether the pool of blood there were standing in belonged to their opponent or themselves. It was obvious that neither boy could fight anymore, that it was now simply a matter of who would be lucky enough to land the final, clumsy blow.
“Let it be finished,“ boomed a voice from the crowd. The spectators warily parted and a man with a single streak of white in his black hair appeared at the edge of the balcony. And judging by his armor and demeanor, a military general.
The man took the axe by his side, larger and heavier than either boy, and threw it into the center of the ring. Both fighters knew there would be no avoiding a blow from this weapon.
Inspired to be acknowledged by a member of the high command, each boy let out one last cry and raced to reach the axe first. It was over in an instant. The armored man huffed with grim satisfaction and melted back into the crowd. Cheers erupted from the audience and the winner was carried off on the shoulders of admirers. The body of the losing boy was gone long before anyone remembered to pay it any mind.
These Noxians and their foolish pride. There’s no shame in living to fight another day. Either boy would have made a fine captain one day.
Magnus traced the lattice of scars on his arm, remembering the lessons of steel etched into his body and shivering at the memory of each one. He hadn’t come to watch this primitive Noxian ritual. He was on the trail of a fighter who was rumored to make an appearance in the ring that night.
He will be here, I’m sure of it. Jax...
Not much is known about Jax, even among travelling mercenaries like Magnus. Seemingly without allegiance, Jax appears without any regard for the time or place in which he finds himself.
One incident recounts him appearing before a Demacian platoon on its way to a field exercise, led by the crown prince himself. When Jax refused to clear the path of the squad, the prince moved forward to teach the petulant vagabond a lesson, only to be swiftly disarmed. The remaining forces moved in to arrest Jax, resulting in a great battle lasting several days. At the dawn of the final day, Jax walked away from the battle without a single scratch, leaving a trail of dented shields and splintered spears. The prince later regarded that incident, “more valuable than any war game could have,” and Jax has been known as The Grand Quartermaster among Demacians ever since.
Another tale speaks of Jax inexplicably appearing before the Noxian army during its invasion of an Ionian city. It is said that he singlehandedly held the main gate for weeks, seemingly without the need for rest or food. And just as suddenly as he arrived, Jax vanished, leaving the Ionians at the mercy of their cruel aggressors. It has been hotly debated whether Jax fought for benevolence or for sport, but it has nonetheless earned him the nom de guerre “Great Warden” among Ionians, and the equally grandiose “Nemesis” among Noxians.
And even further still are stories of Jax appearing before lowly squires and apprentices, in backwater taverns, and before groups of thugs, just looking for a good brawl.
Magnus had followed months of false leads and dead ends, but he knew that he had struck true this time. He felt the unusually strong presences among the audience tonight:
An alabaster-haired woman who, despite her best efforts to conceal it with a bundle of cloth, carried a runic blade as tall and broad as herself.
A long-haired man with a blade as thin and as sharp as the wind.
A hooded woman with a streak of pink hair, mindfully burying the ornate guard of her rapier under her cloak, lest it betray her Demacian origins.
There is a saying among mercenaries that to witness Jax in battle gave you the knowledge to become a general, but to face him directly gave you the wisdom to become unbeatable. Magnus hoped to do both tonight, and it was obvious the others had similar intentions.
The appearance of the Noxian general only confirmed Magnus’s suspicions.
An announcer slunk out from the wings of the pit to address the restless audience.
“And that, ladies and gentleman, was the last of our scheduled matches for tonight! We now open the floor to any brave souls who find themselves suddenly inspired by this evening’s show. Five gold coins for just stepping into the ring, ten for winning. You are of course free to take your opponent’s coins too if they suddenly find themselves, ahem, no longer in need of their share,” he sneered. “Any takers?”
A low murmur blanketed the crowd, many of whom were riled up by the night’s display. Magnus listened to the commotion of belligerent drunkards who were being talked out of “walking to your own death” by their level-headed comrades and the huffing off-duty soldiers who lamented not being able to enter the ring “because they had families for worry about.”
And then the sound began, inaudible to all but those who were looking for it. The rhythmic striking of a metal pole against the earth. The crumpling of dirt beneath old sandals. Magnus knew that the one he had been waiting for had finally arrived, and jumped from the balcony into the ring without a second thought. Landing in a cloud of dust, he gazed up at the three swordsmen he had took note of earlier, each peering at him and realizing they had all been a second too late.
The announcer glided to Magnus and placed a gaunt hand on his shoulder. “Excellent! And who will our first challenger be?”
As if in answer to the announcer, a figure dressed in simple but brightly colored robes sauntered out from the wings of the arena, using an old lamp post as a walking stick. His head was covered by a hood and his face was obscured by a piece of metal consisting entirely of holes, each radiating an otherworldly glow.
The Noxian general and his retinue of troops stood from their seats at the sight of the challenger.
“It’s The Nemesis,” whispered a lieutenant. “Guards! Seize that man!”
The general raise a clenched fist and the troops came to a halt.
“Sir?”
“Strength above all. That is the law of the land,” growled the general. He turned his gaze to the masked figure in the ring. “Watch closely, men. You are about to witness power in the purest form.”
Magnus rolled his shoulders and unsheathed the twin daggers at his sides. “I knew you would come, Jax. I knew you couldn’t resist a good fight. And now it’s finally my turn to give you one.”
Jax slammed the butt of his pole against the ground, igniting the lamp and casting his large shadow across the coliseum’s walls. This drew the attention of the rest of the audience, who now gawked in silence at this mysterious challenger before them. A few even chortled at the sight of such an ostentatious weapon.
Magnus circled the ring, loosening his body and sizing up his opponent.
“They say that you have only three fingers on each hand because you cut off the other two to make it harder for yourself,” jeered Magnus, fishing for a reaction. “That you use that lamp because it was still too easy for you. Though to be honest, getting hit with that hunk of metal doesn’t seem much better than taking one from an axe.”
His opponent remained silent, his gaze remaining forward. Thanks to that odd mask, Magnus couldn’t tell if Jax was even looking at him.
He stands almost two heads above me, which means I’ll be able to get under his guard easily. A long weapon like that lamp means he’ll have to rely on wide swings – I should be able to cut his attacks off with my daggers. And the light from that fire is going to make it simple to follow the arc of his weapon.
Magnus circled the ring, cautiously maneuvering to Jax’s rear. But not once did Jax deign to turn his visage toward him.
Magnus smarted at being taken so lightly and felt the heat rise in his stomach. He had easily taken dozens of marks who had given him fewer openings than the ones Jax was giving him now, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to act. Magnus knew to trust his instincts over his pride, and it was telling him that he was completely outmatched.
**C’mon. Don’t come this far only to hesitate now! **
Magnus bit hard into his lower lip, tasting the iron of his blood and shocking himself into awareness.
You are going to give me what I want, Jax!
He lunged forward with a right thrust, finally forcing Jax to turn and parry.
“Finally have your attention, champ?”
Magnus followed with a sharp left, and then a right.
And then another, and another, putting Jax on the defensive and denying him a chance to strike back.
He’s waiting until the very last second to block, never giving me an opening. On top of that he’s making sure to have the lamp end up right in front of my face so that the glare and embers sting my eyes.
Magnus didn’t notice that a wry grin had stretched itself across his face. He had never faced an opponent of this caliber before, and knew that he never would again.
This isn’t working. I need to let him come to me.
Magnus drew back, giving Jax the opportunity to go on the offensive. He ducked under and weaved between Jax’s swings, hearing the weight of the lamp post each time it zipped narrowly passed his head.
One swing leads right into the next one, as if he’s blocking and attacking at the same time. At this rate I’m going tire out from all this running around before I can find an opening. I need to end this as quickly as possible.
Magnus dived under a horizontal swing, swiping at his opponent’s legs. The daggers narrowly missed Jax’s toes, licking the tails of his robe instead.
It’s over. Not even you could dodge an attack while in the air!
He drove his daggers through the center of Jax’s torso, but the blades found no body to bury themselves in before coming out the back of his robes.
What? How is this possible? He played into every trap I laid for him. I was flawless...
“Not bad, kid,” bellowed a voice from the mask.
A strike to the shin buckled Magnus’s knee. A jab to the gut crumpled his guard. And a third and final blow to the temple took the lights from the room.
When he awoke, Magnus found himself surrounded by members of the audience who prodded him with questions about his encounter, but Jax was nowhere to be found.
“What did he say to you?”
“Did you know he would be here?”
“Do you feel any different?”
“Tell me everything. I’ll pay…”
He drowned out the clamoring of the crowd and noticed a small purse bundled neatly at his side. He undid the bindings and counted twenty coins inside.
Five each for showing up. Ten to the winner. Feel free to take them all if your opponent doesn’t need them.
Magnus snorted at Jax’s sense of humor, causing a dull pain to shoot from the right side of his head. He winced as he ran his fingers across the massive welt left by the lamp post, feeling the familiar shiver run down his spine.
No shame in living to fight another day, huh?
He took one last look at the purse before throwing it into the crowd. He closed his eyes once more and fell back to the floor, content. He already had what he came for.
