Rise of the Darkin: 2

Chapter 1: Cursed 1100 ARW Immortal bastion, Noxus I’m running, again. How many times this month have I ran from someone who wants my head on a wall? I dodge an arrow, catching a faint scent that takes me a second to pinpoint. Poison. Why are the arrows always poisoned? Don’t these people know that there are types of arrows that aren’t tipped with deadly poison? I dodge another arrow. Up ahead are the Noxian markets where my client is supposed to be meeting me. Unfortunately, one of the numerous gangs here in Noxus decided to try and steal my gauntlet. I guess that walking through one of the seedier parts of the immortal bastion wearing a gem-studded gold gauntlet is a bad idea. I’m lost in my thoughts for a second too long and I have to blink to avoid another arrow, its deadly tip breaking against the cold stone wall. I’ve used my gauntlet a little too much and I can tell that its drained. I am just able to dodge a throwing axe, its deadly blade coming within inches of my shoulder. I turn around to a lunatic bearing down on me, his massive blade glinting against the cold grey sky. I just manage to put a bolt of magic in his chest. He falls to the ground, his body smoking from the mystic energy, his face a mask of agony and death. The air is filled with the smell of burned flesh. I run towards the markets, narrowly dodging another poisoned arrow. I can fell the granite stones beneath my boots. Apparently, the Lunatic who I put a blast of magic in must have been really important. Either that or they just were terrified of the Mystic blasts that had left the Charging lunatic with a crater in his chest. As I walk into the Noxian markets I secure the object, a Shuriman carving portraying some kind of war between the ascended. It and been one of my easier adventures, no Collapsing temples or angry natives (they aren’t using the relic, so why shouldn’t I take it?). It wasn’t even cursed! Usually I say that if it isn’t cursed it isn’t worth it, but this time my client was offering me too high a payment to turn down. I spot the man who is supposed to lead me to my client. I’ve worked with him before, he wanted a text detailing the reign of mordekieser, and I got it for him. He didn’t mention that the location of said text was deep in the catacombs of the immortal bastion. I ran into a lot of creepy pale mages whispering something about roses (is everyone in this city creepy and pale?). That trip really reminded me a why I try to avoid doing business in Noxus. That and the creepy cultists that seem to be following me around leaving black rose petals everywhere (I’m not sure if this is intentional or if they are just really unorganized). “Ezreal” The man says shifting on his feet as if preparing for an attack “did you find it?” I nod “Right here” I say pulling out the ancient carving “do you know how long it took me to wrest this away from the wall where I found it?” He rolls his eyes “Yes it must have been awful” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I sigh, what is it with these buyers always undermining my exploits? “Okay where is this paranoid hermit that wants to buy this carving?” I ask. I’m used to paranoid buyers, but this is starting to get ridiculous. “Your ten minutes late” he comments, his voice soaked with suspicion. Of course, he would notice “Some idiots in the back alleys decided to pit my magic against their swords” he raises an eyebrow but says nothing more. He starts walking away, I pause for a moment before following him. He leads me towards the edges of the market. Here there are buildings that have outlasted the Rune wars. My guide leads me into an ancient stone building just outside of the markets. I notice that the building is positioned in such a way that you wouldn’t notice it unless you knew where to look. The grey of the stone allows it to blend in with the other stone buildings easily, and the view of it is blocked by other buildings so that you have to twist and turn through various streets to get to it. The moment I step inside, the door slams shut with an unsettling finality. I turn to see the door glowing, rune magic sealing it shut. I raise an eyebrow, Rune magic is almost as forbidden as shadow magic, used only by the foolhardy or brave. I open my mouth to comment. My guide sees this and quickly states “One sarcastic remark from you and we will find out which one breaks first, your face, or the door.” I close my mouth, sure that he could follow through with that threat, considering the muscles he has. He leads me into a shadowy room towards the back of the massive building. It looks like only a few of the rooms have been used, while the rest lay in disrepair. I spot an old magic recording instrument “that...” I start to say before he gives me a look that says if I continue my sentence I will be the one ending up in a museum. Likely with a broken arm. We walk to the back of the building, the fast pace of my guide forcing me to jog to keep up. A monolithic door blocks our path, its sturdy frame seeming to resist out very presence. My guide opens the door with great difficulty, sweat beading on his face as the massive door resists him. Finally, the door is open, my guide motions for me to enter his face clearly showing the strain that was placed upon him. The room is dark, no natural light penetrates the walls and the room has no windows. Tables line the walls, some stacked with maps and diagrams, others displaying magical artifacts. I recognize a few that have passed through my hands. At the back of the room is what appears to be my client. The man appears to be meditating. He's blue. I don't mean blue as in sad, I mean blue as in literally blue. His skin is an indigo-violet, bringing forth images of fields of flowers and Rune magic. Runes cover his skin, Glowing white with power, most are foreign to me, but I do recognize a few, mostly from the endless hours of studying my uncle made me do when I was young. The man is clearly a mage, the aura of power around him and the runes on his skin give no doubt to the subject. Is he the one behind the Rune magic barring the door? It is clear why he never goes out in public; his skin and runes would immediately betray him as a user of forbidden rune magic to any knowledgeable mage. He would be sentenced to death easily. Even setting foot in demacia, risky for a mage, would be suicide for someone so clearly a mage as him. Then why do I see demacian artifacts among the tables? He must have hired some adventurer to get them for him. Beside the man is a comically large scroll, big enough to sling over his back. It appears to be important, both because it is right beside him, and because there is a complex seal on it. Any thief would have a hard time getting whatever is inside. Or maybe, it is to stop whatever is inside, from getting out. I shake the unsettling thought from my head, it’s a scroll whatever is inside is comprised of words, there is no reason to be paranoid The man opens his eyes, his gaze seeming to bore into my very soul. His eyes are the same white as the runes on his skin. He makes a motion and the runes on his skin glow even brighter (I wonder how he sleeps?) and a small ring forms around the feet of my Escort. Energy swirls around his boots. He makes a salute to my client and disappears along with the ring. I stare at the place where the massive man had been just seconds ago. I had no idea that there was magic powerful enough to transport someone that easily without any sort of magical enhancement. Then I glance at the runes on the man’s skin and it makes sense. Those runes help him channel the runic energy he uses. "You brought the carving?" asks my client, his voice commanding and weathered. He is definitely Noxian, his voice having that rough accent that seems to scream "tough". I nod and hand him the Slab of stone that had the carvings on it. "It was easy to get, it wasn't even cursed!" I say, flaunting my abilities. My client rolls his eyes, the usual reaction. He examines the carving. "Now for my payment, you promised fifty thousand" I say, this was a lifesaver for me, my uncle has been pressuring to pay him back for all the money I have spent on supplies over the years. This will just be enough to cover it. This almost gave me as much as the elixir of Uloa would have if my buyer hadn't pulled a flintlock on me to steal it (correction: it was two flintlocks). I managed to get an old bell that I sold. As a bonus I stopped whatever "dread lord" my former client was planning to unleash. I didn't get too much money from that particular expedition but this one was easier than that had been and was paying almost as much. "This carving is very unique" my client states snapping me out of my thoughts and completely ignoring the payment I had just mentioned "It depicts two of the ascended fighting over a World rune" My client continues. I know what an ascended is my gauntlet being the former possession of one. They were pretty much gods, being humans reborn in the light of the sun disks that the Empire of Shurima. They were heroic and such until there empower was killed. Then records get shaky, but it is assumed they started to kill each other off until the few that remained decayed, due to their fading magic. I have no idea what a world Rune is though.
"The ascended were the mightiest beings of the Era and yet even they could not resist the call of the world runes" My client goes on. I still have no idea what he is talking about. "Ummmmmmm, what are world runes?" I say, trying to clear up the situation". He looks at me like I am an ignorant child, I do not like that look. "The runes were the objects that shaped this world." He states, His voice sounding even creepier than it already was (how did he do that?), "they were not meant for Mortal or Immortal hands" He extends his hand "I'm Ryze" he says. I shake his hand “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t call you hear to buy this carving” he says. My mouth drops open. I was depending on this to get my uncle off my back. Without this it will take me at least two more months. He sees my dismayed look and quickly says “you will get your payment of course, but that was not the reason I called you here” I give a sigh of relief, I will still pay off my debt to my uncle, and I won’t have to go on another crazy adventure (I will still go on one, but it will not be forced, so that’s great). “Have you heard of the legend of the darkin?” Ryze asks. I have no clue and I say so. Ryze looks at me like he doesn’t want to tell me this but has to. “The darkin are all that remain of the group of Ascended that once served the empire of Shurima” He pauses like he already regrets his words “after battling the void their souls were so sickened, that they turned against each other after the fall of the great city of Shurima” that rings a bell in my head, the common perception is that the ascended killed each other off due to void corruption, but I’ve never heard the word “Darkin” used to describe them. The ascended have been gone for millennia, why is he so urgent that he bring me in on this now? It seems like old news. I smell something fishy, and I hate fish. I look at Ryze for him to continue, but then the whole place starts to shake. Ryze looks panicked. This is a new emotion on him. Of course, I have only known him for a handful of minutes. “Run” he says. It is always a bad thing when someone tells you to run. It’s never to run casually, or run to something, no it’s always running away from something, usually something that will kill you if you don’t follow the command It turns out that the carving was cursed after all, Sweet! The curse was just very slow acting. A sandstorm is sweeping the city. I doubt that the majority of the population of Noxus has ever seen a sandstorm. Drake-hounds scream in terror, their scaly flesh not accustomed to sandstorms. Soon their screams are joined by the screams of people as the sand reaches a speed where it begins to erode human flesh. This curse is really strong! It’s a wonder that I was able to get the carving here without getting killed. The carving glows an eerie Red, it takes a moment for me to realize that I can see the glow through the ancient stone walls. The crash of falling buildings joins the chorus of screams as weaker structures succumb to the sand’s erosion. The sand is painful against my skin. By Ryze’s facial expression it looks like it hurts him as well. I Lower my goggles, grateful for once that I have them. I squint through the sand. I can make out the edge of the sandstorm. It appears that the carving has created a Sandstorm in the shape of a cylinder. The area outside the cylinder appears to be untouched apart from the screaming crowds fleeing the area. I focus on my gauntlet, feeling it draining energy from me. I blink inside the building, feeling the familiar out of body sensation that comes with teleportation. Against all logic, the sand is moving faster in here, I make my way through the destroyed interior of Ryze’s former stronghold (I wonder how he got it?), The sand scrapes against my skin, making me nervous. If the sand wears away enough of my skin so that It exposes a blood vessel, the sand will get into my bloodstream, killing me in seconds. I finally get into the back room, the carving is exactly where I dropped it, Glowing with (probably) evil magic. The once intricate figures, dulled by years of shuriman weather, glow from within like the candles that adorn Bilgewater in the last months of the year. The carving is surrounded by an orbit of sand, moving so fast that I can barely see the Artifact. A thought pops into my head, what if Ryze doesn’t give me my payment because the carving was destroyed? I immediately recognize the preservation spell that is on the artifact. The fact that the thought only appeared when I could see the carving is a definite sign that the Artifact is messing with my mind to preserve itself. I aim the energy in my gauntlet, concentrating it into a bolt of power. The sand begins to move even faster. Agony rips through my body, almost making me lost my concentration. I manage to corral the energy before it can disperse. I take a deep breath and let the bolt fly. It tears through the sand surrounding the artifact, Blasting the Stone and magic apart equally. A sound like a scream splits the air as the curse is destroyed. I counted on this, what I did not count on is the explosion. The shield of sand that the carving was using to protect itself absorbs most of the blast, but I am still thrown against the wall. As I get up, shaking my head to clear the ringing in my ears, I hear the familiar sound of crumbling stone. I force the remaining energy in my gauntlet to blink me out of the crumbling building. I blink and take off my goggles, adjusting to the sunlight. Several buildings are destroyed. Bleeding piles of meat that I assume were once people pepper the street. The tarps that had shielded the merchants from the sun lay discarded by the storm, some torn to shreds. Behind me are the ruins of Ryze’s former stronghold, having caved in after the blast destroyed its load-bearing supports. The people who were smart or lucky enough to take cover in the undestroyed buildings are beginning to emerge, staring in horror at the red piles of meat that were once fellow Noxians. Some of the piles are near entrances to buildings, the doors smeared with blood, as if the victims were banging on the door to try and get in until the wolf took them. Others are near the collapsed buildings, as if they had been killed by the collapse and been stripped by the storm. Some piles have been scattered around the destroyed street, the wind having separated the bloody corpses, spreading the blood of the unfortunate around the street. Too late I see the soldiers marching toward me, Axe’s glinting in the sun’s light. the Trifarian Legion, of course they would be here. I am too tired to run, and my gauntlet is out of power. The soldiers grab me, their armor gleaming menacingly. Clearly, they blame me for the bloody sandstorm. I can hear a grunt as one of them grabs the unconscious body of Ryze. As I also fall into unconsciousness, I fell something unnatural and evil watching me.