I'm making my own lore story for Varus, Here's the first chapter, tell me what you think.

Best Served Cold

“Beware a Man with nothing to lose”

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. Faint flakes of a dark material came off and fell 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.

[So there's the first chapter, was fun to write, thoughts?]