Alternate Histories - Nocturne

Hello all. I'll keep this brief, I enjoy writing and as a way of practising writing I have decided to write alternate lore entries or "Alternate Histories" to some of League of Legends characters. This first entry is of course about Nocturne. Constructive criticisms welcome. If this gets a bit of attention I will do other champions. Enjoy.

In Valoran there exists many places of dark power, the Shadow Isles principle amongst them. Demons, deviants and all manner of detestable deformities inhabit these haunted grounds. But even amongst the denizens of the Shadow Isles they have something to fear.

The girl was not fair, nor pretty, nor honest, nor was she kind, but she didn’t deserve a fate so gruesome. Whispers had floated on the wind from the pirate bay in the north, with a travelling magician who had a devil’s smile.

She remembered how that man had sung her that tale as he flicked his card’s to and fro. Pirate King Silver Jack had hauled a great prize from far beyond the unexplored seas, from a cursed land with cursed treasure. But Silver Jack laughed, he had no fear. His black sails rode the wind with fever and greed back to boast all over Bilgewater.

It was only when he crept upon the Shadow Isles did a sombre silence sweep over his crew. Everyone knew the stories; no one wanted to experience them. The gods had different plans, a storm beset upon his vessel casting men overboard and washing the black sails in rain. But Silver Jack laughed, he had no fear. Lightning cracked the mast, sending it careening onto the deck. With a thundering bang it sawed the ship clean in two. The rain stopped, the thunder stopped, the lightning stopped; the world gave way to silence. But Silver Jack laughed, he had no fear. Silver Jack made it ashore barely alive, with salt in his lungs he hauled with him what remained of his treasure; two blades as black as night. He buried them in the soft dirt beneath an old oak. With his work done and his eyes tired he paused to rest, to recuperate, to sleep. Silver Jack laughed, he had no fear.

The girl stole away from home in the dark of night, spear in hand she made for the Shadow Isles. In seek of the fabled treasure. She imagined it to be a trivial task, grave robbing always was. She found the tree; the soft dirt under the old oak was disturbed, clear signs of a burial but no corpse. She laid aside her spear and upturned the earth. The grave was empty, the blades were gone. Unnatural black clouds blocked out the sun. She gripped her spear tight, she was not afraid.

But whether or not you have it, fear is a powerful thing. The laugh, that was all that she could remember, poor girl. The laugh; how it echoed deep and foreboding. How it sounded distant yet near, like he was whispering and shouting all at once. A monster, a demon, an assailant made of shadows she didn’t know what he was, what it was. But it ensured with a laugh, that she needn’t be afraid any longer.

Gangplank called it’s a curse and swore of demons, Sarah Fortune called it plain bad luck and spoke of a monster, the magician simply called it a twist of fate; but they knew it was something fouler than death that took that girl in the Shadow Isles. Some say if you sail past that shore some nights, if you lower your sails and your voice’s you can hear that laugh. If black clouds sweep over you, you have nothing to fear… but fear itself.