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-   -   The Void Rises (a working title) (http://forums.na.leagueoflegends.com/board/showthread.php?t=2357299)

Lethadind 07-14-2012 11:50 AM

The Void Rises (a working title)
 
Hey guys, I saw the fanfic section, and decided to try my hands at it. I've dabbled in creative writing over the years, though I'm certainly not a professional, I enjoy it, and the land of Runeterra is rich with stories. Anyways, I'm taking a few liberties with the scarce lore available, so some of it might not be accurate, though I read up to make sure I wasn't going against anything already released.

The story takes place about 6 years after current events. A few liberties I've taken that obviously won't be in the actual lore - Lux has become a summoner, retiring as a champion. She will be a major influence in the stories, though it isn't a Lux fanfic. Fizz has left the League, and is again searching for his people. I've created a few new characters, such as one of the high councilors of the League, Aranthor, as the names of only two High Councilors have been released to my knowledge, and one of them is missing. If all four have been released, think of him as a replacement necessary after 6 years.

Also, most of the main characters are new - as in, this is not a fanfic about Lux, Ashe, Fizz, Ahri (It's not like every other fanfic is one about Ahri, right? ;) ), Riven, etc. This is a fanfic about Runeterra. I feel too many fanfics are about a particular, already written to hell about, champion, ergo I wanted to do something new.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy it, and feedback is always appreciated.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Prologue - Kai'Tan

The Void, as many called it, was a place of death. A place where the strong survive. A place where the bigger fish is always around the corner, probably fleeing an even bigger one. Kai’Tan was one of these “big fish,” and had been since it had hatched. Eating its weaker brethren at birth had started it on a path that would lead it to be stronger and more intelligent as time passed. Cunning and ruthless, Kai’Tan began offering protection to its weaker followers, so long as they provided it with food to eat as well. Kai’Tan’s foremost strength was that of absorbing the brainwaves and memories of its prey upon consumption, becoming more intelligent with each victim. Over time, Kai’Tan developed the ability to speak in several of the rudimentary Voidal languages, to strategize, to lay traps, and most importantly, to avoid or even kill the bigger fish. Its thirst for knowledge always outweighed its hunger for flesh, though not by much.

Its latest prey at its feet, strange memories bubbled from the prey’s consciousness: of color – few memories had color in the Void; this creature had ventured beyond – and of a…brightness. Its memories spoke of caution as well. It began to store the memories away until they could be useful, when it spotted it. The brightness. Not five distances from where it stood.

Staring at the odd brightness, Kai’Tan edged slowly closer. Kai’Tan was strong, but not stupid. Not only the strong survive, but the intelligent. This new curiosity could be something very sinister. The brightness grew in shape and intensity, until it filled Kai’Tan’s vision, the Void around it vanishing from “view,” if you could say the Void had substance, at least. It was kill or be killed here, and Kai’Tan began to fear this new power.

It brought a claw to its eyes as the brightness faded into a different brightness. It understood this, from the memories of creatures like the one it had just consumed in times past, as sunlight. So, now it too was free of the Void. Interesting. Memories of others told of the delectable meals to be had in this land. Those with higher intelligence called it Runeterra. Those with lower intelligence had called it easy hunting. In…days, Kai’Tan tested the word with memories past, yes, days – in days to come, Kai’Tan would call it a wealth of memories. A land of knowledge.

-~-~-~- 

Chapter 1 - New Journeys

A soft breeze kicked up and drifted lazily across the Field of Justice known as Summoner’s Rift. An unnatural river cut across the middle of the field, which was surrounded by a barrier of trees. Not far from Summoner’s Rift lay the Institute of War, a massive building housing what had become the political power of all of Valoran, and the surrounding islands – Ionia, Bilgewater and the Shadow Isles being the chief powers accepting this political dominance on their respective islands. Small jutting rock spires cut their way all around the Institute, but seemed to give way to the building’s massive presence, as if the very earth itself was acquiescing its obedience to the order and law that the Institute of War provided. The breeze wound its way up the massive staircase, caressing the empowered crystals dotting and decorating the journey to the entrance, and finally found its way to the figure of an eager-looking young man, sending a slight chill through his frame, but nevertheless not affecting his apparent resolve.

Aerlin shrugged as the chill spread through his body, and took the final step to the doors of the Institute of War. They were massive, at least 50 feet high, but everything he had read said they opened with ease. He was in a magical place, and it was going to take some getting used to. Taking a deep breath, he recalled the mantra he had repeated to himself since starting this journey. “You must finish what you started. There is no failure.” Simple, yet final. He would become a Summoner, or not return home.

Countless centuries of magical warfare had nearly torn Runeterra asunder, and the Summoners of Valoran – though they had different political motivations – all understood that if war were to continue in this fashion, Runeterra would not hold together much longer. So they created the League of Legends, a sort of gladiator-style games to resolve political conflict and warfare. The fact that nearly every prominent summoner backed this resolution caused the outlying forces – the eternally warring Demacia and Noxus in particular – to accept as well. Thus began an era of pseudo-peace on Valoran that had so far lasted 26 years. The summoners were those that attempted to resolve political conflict for their particular faction through the choosing of a champion, who would do battle for them (willingly or not so willingly) through a mind-link that allowed the summoner to direct their path to hopeful victory.

Aerlin had demonstrated a knack for magical prowess, and had always wanted to make a difference for the government of Demacia. The decision, surprisingly, had been an easy one – not much was left for him back home besides his parents and three siblings, all of whom he missed, of course, but adventure ran through his veins, and he had to answer its call.

“Hey, Boy! You, you okay, Son?” An elderly guard, nearly invisible next to the door, regarded him with confusion and…was it pity, or curiosity? Aerlin just stared blankly back at him. The guard shrugged, and seemingly melted back into the wall when he stopped moving. He’d have to get used to things like that too.

Opening the doors – mahogany and intricately carved with artistic runes and other designs he was unfamiliar with – and they did indeed open with ease, he was greeted by a smell he did not anticipate. Decay. The sort of smell you’d expect a Yordle outhouse to have that was never cleaned. Grabbing his nose instantly and giving a small retch before he could contain himself, he took in his surroundings. The vaulted ceilings and columns were adorned with artwork of the cosmos. Great swirls of stars, planets, and even what was now known as galaxies – billions of stars contained and grouped together by a central pull of gravity at its center. He had only just learned of it at school, to see images of it on the ceilings of the Grand Hall of War was eye-opening. How long had the Grand Summoners known of galaxies before the population of Valoran?

That was all he could concentrate on, however, as he was having a harder and harder time breathing through his mouth – the scent still permeated through, making him want to double over and vomit all over the velvet carpeting. He gathered himself again, and strode as well as he could to who he assumed was a secretary of the League. Vomiting on the carpet would not be a good first impression.

“You boy, back of the line.” The secretary pointed to a line of about three hundred on the other end of the Hall.

Aerlin shook his head slowly, even that motion sent colors swimming through his vision. “You, ugh, you don’t under…” He took a moment to collect himself. “You don’t understand sir.” He breathed slowly through his mouth. “I, I’m here to train to be a Summoner for the League.” He could taste the bile forming in his throat.

“And what is it I don’t understand now, son? Back of the line with you!”

Aerlin stared at him in disbelief. “You, you mean to, to tell me that…to tell me that all of those people are here to become Summoners?”

The secretary smirked. “Good luck.” He said, mocking him. A guard edged him away from the counter in a not-so-gentle manner, and that was all his stomach needed to empty its contents. All over the carpet. All over the guard’s freshly polished leather boots. All over Aerlin himself. He retched, and once his stomach was empty, he dry-heaved for a solid thirty seconds. His insides ached, his mouth and nose burned with the stench of bile mixed with filth, and all he could do was retch.

Before he could react, a pair of strong hands – soft, but strong – pulled him up and dragged him, still retching, out of the hall and into a sideroom. The instant the doors closed the stench went away, and the retching stopped. Vision blurred, he tried to speak, but all that came out were murmurs and whimpering. I’m done for. I’ve come this far and now they’re going to turn me away – surely I have to pay for damages – I’m not going to be a summoner, I’m going to be a laughing stock. Oh my family, the dishonor!

“Shhh. Shh. Settle down. Let your stomach settle a moment before doing anything.” A women’s voice. With his vision blurred, he couldn’t see her clearly. He couldn’t even make out that she was, in fact, a woman, aside from her voice. “Here, take this, it will help with the…taste.” A blurred hand reached out to him, and he took what he assumed was a small pill and swallowed it eagerly. Instantly the burning sensation in his mouth, nose and throat vanished.

He wiped his eyes clear of tears and stared at the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Moreover he knew who she was. “My Lady Lux!” He knelt awkwardly before her. “My goodness, I, I did not think. I, I am sorry.” He said.

She giggled, its rhythmic sound echoing through his ears and penetrating his soul. “Oh get off the ground. I may be “Lady” in Demacia, but here we are all summoners.” She said.

Aerlin rose unsteadily to his feet. “I know many tales of your bravery on and off the Fields of Justice. I know the tales of your leadership when you decided to become a Summoner for Demacia, retiring as champion. My goodness I have learned so much about you, and to see you here, it is an honor, my lady.”

She regarded him coolly. Of course she would, she was Lord Garen’s younger sister! She had infiltrated the Noxian Fortress! She had won countless victories for the Demacian city-state, both on the Fields of Justice, and commanding them, and rumor said she was now a step below becoming a Grand Summoner! Who wouldn’t she regard coolly with a reputation like that? “Well, isn’t that just wonderful. I suppose you can’t help it. But enough of that, tell me, why did you empty your insides all over the Grand Hall?”

Her beauty was honestly intoxicating. It was all he could do to focus on her words and not her face, the way her lips parted when she spoke. The way her eyes twinkled with mirth and a certain sense of…was it mischievousness? The perfect curve of her nose. “The smell.” He said, catching himself. “I couldn’t bear it, it was so atrocious. How do others in there stand it? I’ve never smelled anything so horrid.”

She smiled, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and then her eyes took on a more serious tone, her smile turning into a frown. “As I thought,” she said seriously, “come with me. What did you say your name was?”

He looked straight into her eyes, beautiful as they were, he refused to fall under their spell again. “It’s Aerlin, my lady.” He would not be ashamed. He would not. Not even to Luxanna the Lady of Luminosity. He had come here to become a summoner and no amount of moping or groveling would get him anywhere! “Please, lead the way.” He said. The only thing he was ashamed of was his attitude upon first meeting her. He would not have her impression of him being as tongue-tied and addle-brained as a Yordle saddleslayer! He was Aerlin, future summoner of the Institute of War!

She regarded him a moment before nodding and turning to open the door. “The medicine I gave you earlier should fight off the stench. Oh, and about your clothes…” She snapped her fingers and the…stomach contents…vanished, as did the stench of bile. “There, better. Let me know if you still smell anything.” As the door opened he prepared himself for the onslaught to his senses. It came, but decidedly less powerful. “Well? How is it?”

He waved his hands, a gesture of triviality. “It’s there, but manageable now. Thank you.”

She said nothing, and her stare gave nothing away before she turned and led the way out into the hall.

-~-~-~-

After spending five or so minutes winding through corridors, going up flights of stairs, going down another flight of stairs, and traversing through even more corridors, Aerlin’s nerves began to get the better of him again, despite his earlier personal pep talk. The Lady Lux simply kept walking. She walked in a casual way, but it was unintentionally alluring. As the journey dragged on, Aerlin couldn’t help but entertain all the possibilities that awaited his near future. Was he to be punished upon arrival? Turned away? Kept on as an indentured servant? Demacian justice was harsh, but he had no idea what kind of law existed in the Institute. It was essentially its own governing force, despite its main influence residing in a single building. Perhaps defacing the Grand Hall was a severely punishable offense, intentional or not.

She stopped in front of the most random door so suddenly that Aerlin nearly ran her over. She knocked three times, waited a moment, and knocked twice more. A muffled “Come in.” sounded from within.

She opened the door and Aerlin found himself standing in front of the High Councilor Aranthor. Oh no. This is bad.

Lady Lux smiled at the high councilor’s dumbfounded look. “Lux, who is this?”

“This is Aerlin,” she looked at him with as if to question the truth of his name, “right?” He nodded. “He came here seeking to be a summoner, but vomited upon arrival in the Grand Hall, Councilor. Apparently the stench was too much for him.”

The high councilor laughed heartily. Why would he laugh? “Is that so? Well, young man, let me have a look at you.”

Lux interrupted him. “That’s not all councilor. After giving him the antidote he said the smell still lingered.”

This time Aranthor’s expression grew dark. “I see.” Why did that matter? Aerlin gave up trying to guess his fate. None of this made any sense. He gave himself to examining the furnishings of the room. Drab, all things considered. A few books lay strewn across the desk, a few more stacked somewhat neatly in a shelf. A few candles lay in their metal containers. The only furnishings were a small fox-skin rug on the floor and what he assumed was the councilor’s crest mounted to the wall. This far into the Institute there would be no way for anyone without prior knowledge to know that this was indeed a high councilor’s office. He imagined the councilor’s room was probably much more lavish.

“Aerlin? Aerlin!” He snapped back to attention and noticed they were both looking at him expectantly.

“Errr…sorry, what was that?” The color began rising to his cheeks. Surprisingly Lux seemed to giggle silently, while the high councilor, not surprisingly, looked at him with distaste.

“Well, Aerlin,” he began, “I was trying to welcome you to the League.”

Of all the paths his life was going to take in the near future, this was at the bottom of possibilities. “I…err…what?” Aranthor sighed.

“Do I really need to explain the entire situation again?” He looked at Lux. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Of course, you know where my talents lie, councilor.” He nodded in turn.

“Okay, listen this time, summoner. I will not repeat myself nor will I tolerate ignorance in the future. What you smelled was an incantation, runed upon the walls of the Grand Hall, that only the most attuned to the magic required to be a summoner can smell. Unfortunately for you, that smell was pungently atrocious. It is different for everyone. The medicine that Summoner Lux gave you should have quelled the smell completely, but it appears that you are so attuned that it did not. We have been waiting for a summoner of your caliber for quite some time.” He looked at Lux again briefly, almost fondly. Unexpected and illogical jealousy surged through Aerlin. “I believe that is all, is that correct, High Summoner Lux?”

She returned the look and again the jealousy surged. “Almost, councilor. You’re forgetting tutelage. As per the Code, any summoner that demonstrates clear affluence for summoner magicks must begin an advanced program. As I am the one who discovered him, I volunteer myself for the task.” Jealousy was instantly replaced with ecstasy. This was an odd day for him. Beyond odd, actually. But to be tutored by Lady Luxanna? The honor of such an education was beyond anything he had hoped for. And, admittedly, to know her personally, to be close to her every day was something he had never dreamed of either. He had just met her and already he found her intoxicating. Never before had anyone ever done this to him. His thoughts turned to fantasies that became increasingly illogical and unrealistic. She was High Summoner Luxanna of the Demacian military. He was Aerlin, new summoner from Harenshire, a province just outside the city-state. His family were farmers, plain and simple. Her family were wealthy landowners, military strategists, and noble commanders down to the cousins. Entertaining some fantasy was foolish, better to deal with the situation at hand.

“I am honored, high counc-“

The high councilor cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Luxanna, I did not forget the tutelage, and though I admire your eagerness, I cannot allow it from you.”

She raised a hand and Aerlin felt himself instantly surrounded by an invisible barrier. No sound penetrated the barrier, but he could see the Lady Lux beginning a tyrade, throwing her hands in the air and shouting at the high councilor, whilst he simply sat there, soaking in her tantrum with patience. The patience of a father, almost. Perhaps that’s what the look was, a relative looking fondly upon another younger relative. Again the fantasies began replaying in his head. He shoved them aside and simply waited for the argument to be over – he couldn’t do anything else anyway.

When they had finished, or rather, when Lux had exhausted herself, he felt the barrier melt away, a rush of ordinary sounds meeting his ears. “It has been decided,” Lux began through clenched teeth, “that you will be tutored by Lina and Brell, High Summoners with substantial skill.” Aerlin’s heart dropped, and yet rose again. Why was she this upset? Did she return any of the attraction he saw in her? These fantasies are going to be the end of me. Begone!

He had no choice but to respond, “It will be a great honor to learn from such distinguished teachers.” He had heard of neither of them, and he had done extensive research before arriving. “I thank you for this great privilege, High Councilor, and I promise to make use of every opportunity to learn.”

“Yes, yes, formalities are wonderful. Welcome to the League, Summoner. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to attend to.” He brushed them both off without a second glance and returned to his stack of papers, books, and ledgers. “See yourselves out, won’t you?”

“Yes, High Councilor, thank you again.” As they walked out together he decided he didn’t like High Councilor Aranthor much. Not much at all.

-~-~-~-

Fizz stared out at the bleak landscape. Seeing no water anywhere was always depressing, but he had decided to start this journey, he may as well end it, though he missed all his friends from the League dearly – especially those from Bilgewater – he simply couldn’t rely on the politics of Demacia and Noxus, no especially Noxus, to help him find his people. What had become of them? Twenty years he had searched for them, in human years that seemed a long time, Fizz was still an adolescent at sixty-three years old, to be honest, but living with the humans had changed his perspective on time, probably permanently.

How the humans could live so far from the ocean, he would never understand, though. Even realizing that humans were anatomically different, the ocean was so…alive, so inviting! Its sounds were soothing, its surface intoxicating, playful! Oh how he missed it. But, the fastest way to the Northern Conqueror’s Sea was a direct route through the country itself, which provided little amphibious scenery along the way until the Serpentine River – a freshwater river, something Fizz had never seen and was excited to experience! The last place he had left to search was the Conqueror’s Sea, though he had little hope of finding any clues. Trident in hand, Fizz again trekked along the desert path, canteen at his side for hydration.

Being as dry as it was, he had to stop at every opportunity to purchase more water. His skin dried easily, and he also lacked companionship, something he had grown fond of in Bilgewater, and then again in the League – despite the fact that he was often forced to kill some of his friends on the Fields of Justice repeatedly. He had learned his lesson in Bilgewater as to what the humans did not appreciate as well. Pranks were just a part of Amphibrien society; however, all but the younger human children looked sourly upon pranks. Extended conversation was their way, something that bored Fizz to no end, and so he made a practice of performing acrobatics for the people he met, most of whom had never before heard of Amphibriens before Fizz had joined the League. It at least helped the time go by quickly, and allowed him to make friends wherever he went, however fleeting the friendship was.

A month’s travel from the Institute found him staring at the awkward landscape of the Howling Marsh. He had heard its name came from the sound of the wind cutting through the marshes at a forced angle from the valley it was contained in. He intended to circumvent it, however, and take his journey through the much more travelable Marshes of Kaladoux. His path led him to the small village of Berkstaff. Apparently it was under Demacian rule, but it lay so far from the city-state itself that “Demacian rule” meant paying a part of their taxes once a year to a collector that traversed all the way out here. Fizz didn’t really care about politics, to be honest, but he often found himself locked in conversations despite his best effort to avoid them, and he found it best to know a few things that he can talk about, to keep people’s amiable view of him – he wanted friends, after all.

He was honestly surprised to see the village residents up and around this early in the morning, especially the children! They all seemed to be looking to the road Fizz was traveling on. When he came into view – Fizz’s eyes were much better than humans’ – he heard an excited murmur flow through the crowd. One of the children squealed with excitement. “There he is daddy! It’s Fizz! It’s him!” A thunderous roar of cheers followed, stopping him in his tracks. What is all this about? The people flowed out of the village onto the road, running to greet him. Shouts of “Fizz! Oh thank the gods!” and “I can’t believe we have the honor of hosting the Great Fizz!” met his ears with hundreds of different variations. He was forced to shake hands the whole way to the village, people telling him how honored they were to finally meet the “Great Fizz,” until they finally reached the gates of the city, which opened without a single creak. It seems they had been preparing for his arrival, of all things, as there were banners of his likeness with phrases like “Welcome Fizz! The great protector of Berkstaff!”

Suddenly he understood. Three years ago, he had been called to the Fields of Justice to do battle for Berkstaff, who was stuck in a political conflict against Noxian Control. Noxus had attempted to gain a foothold on the outskirts of Demacia, and had laid waste to much of the village before the Institute had intervened. The battle had taken place on Summoner’s Rift – the most popular Field – but it had been a special case. His allies’ summoners were apparently very inexperienced, yet headstrong. Despite the best efforts of the champions whom were chosen by these summoners to do otherwise, they had made some very costly mistakes that had nearly cost them the Nexus. Fizz however had single-handedly – well, he had the help of his summoner at the time, who had also happened to be Luxanna, right when she had first retired as champion and begun as a summoner – but they had single-handedly saved the Nexus and had pushed into enemy territory to destroy theirs, solving the conflict and forcing Noxus to withdraw after repairing the damage they had done.

He broke into a wide grin and after shaking a few more hands, began performing what he called his “champion acrobatics.” Moves he would use on the Fields to gain the upper hand against other champions. It mostly involved dancing on his spear, or bounding around in what appeared to be erratic patterns, though they were actually the steps to a popular Amphibrien dance. The people clapped with delight, cheering him on and calling out his name. Many had tears in their eyes. He had never seen such love and gratitude, even in Bilgewater.

The city was spotless. He assumed this was in preparation for his arrival as well, but it was quaint. Thatch-roofed houses dotted the landscape inside the walls, with a few taller stone buildings scattered here and there. He had noticed a few farms outside the walls, but there were more inside, which he found odd, usually farmland was kept outside the walls, to allow the animals free pasture. Perhaps the invasion three years earlier had something to do with this decision. The village rose in height further north to a natural hill, upon which he could only assume was the governors’ residence, as it was the largest and most decorated of all the buildings. Fizz was overcome with joy at his reception. So many friends! He loved the children most of all, he had a special strap he had constructed that allowed children to hold on while he did acrobatics with them, and they loved it! Human children were so fun, so full of life. They reminded him most of all of his people, and anytime there were children to play with, for a few moments at least he was able to forget the loneliness he felt, and the feeling he couldn’t shake that he had become, somehow, the last of his people.

An elderly man approached him, Fizz assumed he was the governor, and found out he was right shortly after he introduced himself as, indeed, the governor. The crowd fell silent and watched Fizz with adoration. “Fizz, as you can see, we are overjoyed and honored to have you grace our walls. You were simply doing your duty as a champion, but our village will forever be indebted to you. You fought for us, and you should know that we will always fight for you.”

Fizz grinned sheepishly. “Well, uh, your Honor, I…uh…if you know anything about me,” he laughed lightly, “you know I’m no good with words. Especially to those, uh, to those not of my kind. I will say it’s an honor to be honored by so many great friends.” At the word “friends,” several people clapped and a few cheered. “Thanks for the greetings and such, I, uh, don’t know what else to say.” The people cheered again.

The governor, Haventhorp was his name, pointed to the center of the village. “Follow me, friend Fizz. We, the citizens of Berkstaff have something to show you.” A short distance down the path, veering around a few of the buildings, stood a statue of…him. A plaque at the base read, “In Honor of Fizz: The Tidal Trickster, the Savior of Berkstaff.” The statue was in the likeness of his League portrait, used for all of his matches. Standing on a rock, the waves crashing against the surface, spraying around him dramatically, and his trident extended in front of him. The detail was impressive.

He decided he owed it to his new friends in Berkstaff to stay for an extended visit. His people had waited for twenty years; they could wait a few months more. A tear glistened against his cheek for the first time since returning home that fateful day, twenty years ago.

-~-~-~-

Lethadind 07-14-2012 12:24 PM

Hmmm, I guess I'll reserve a few posts just in case.

Lethadind 07-14-2012 12:25 PM

Reserved.

Lethadind 07-14-2012 12:27 PM

Reserved again...

SpammerAccount 07-16-2012 02:33 PM

I liked it a lot actually. You are a very talented writer. It is, however, missing a certain sense of conflict, though. I know the story just started, but so far it just seems like a 10 page introduction and plot set-up. I dunno, maybe throw in something a little more exciting than Aerlin worried about getting kicked out. Maybe he meets his "arch-nemesis" and they nearly get into a brawl or something. Just throwing out ideas. All in all, though, well done! +1

Lethadind 07-23-2012 06:09 PM

Thanks Spammer, I'll figure something out and tweak things if this goes anywhere...speaking of which...

Ummm...Bump? 450 views and only 1 vote, no comments except Spammer? Is it too long? Not very good? I'm confused.

Lethadind 09-20-2012 05:28 PM

I'ma necro my own thread one last time. So, uh, bump.

AerithRayne 09-20-2012 05:34 PM

I apologize for getting your hopes up with this message actually containing something, well, useful, but I just wanted to drop that I'm interested in reading and will return soon to read this. School stuffs. Anyway, I'll try to leave a meaningful reply next time I'm on your thread. Don't be discouraged. Not picking a single champion to drool over isn't necessarily a bad idea.

W4ddleBuff 09-20-2012 07:32 PM

Rise of the Void?

...

DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH

Kneesurgery 09-20-2012 10:48 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by W4ddleBuff (Hozzászólás 29485098)
Rise of the Void?

...

DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH
DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY, BASAH-BASAH DEY-SHEY BASAH-BASAH


Good to know I wasn't the only one thinking that when looking at the title.

Sorry, haven't read the story yet, trying desperately to put out my own content and the more I read, the less I write. Sorry. I'll try to get to it this weekend when I won't feel like writing anyway because my classes start on Monday. Looks good though.


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