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The Escape

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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

Greetings writers, summoners, or whatever you like to call yourselves. This is my first venture into such a writing so it may be terribad. However, I was feeling creative and inspired so I took hands to keys and hammered out a little short story. Granted I've only proof-read it once or twice, and as a teacher once told me long ago (since I'm old, man) - a story is never done, it is only due.

Before I go on, I would like to point out that this creation is purely of my imagination. I do not claim to have high canonical knowledge of the League, but simply used inspiration found under the "lore" section of certain heroes, the in-game voice acting and such which inspired this little story.

The setting is sometime shortly before the Fields of Justice are established. The characters should be evident.

The following story is purely from my imagination, and I did not read many posts in the forum before posting it. Therefore, if I have accidentally stumbled upon something, or over someone else point it out to me, but yanno, don't be all YOU'RE A BIG FAT PHONY! Any mistakes are unintentional and non-malicious in nature.

If you people like this entry, I shall create new ones dealing with other "chance encounters" of champions around Valoran before the FoJ are established. If not? Then it dies here and you may go about your business.

As always, this was purely for entertainment and not meant to supplant anyone else's imagination, views, or ideas on the subject.

Frankly if just a few of you read through the whole thing. Total win for me.

Thanks!

-CT


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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

The Escape

Time is a funny thing in a dark place where there is no light. Malcolm Graves had no idea how much time had passed since he was thrown into this windowless universe in a dank, underground dungeon in Zaun. Night and day had no meaning, time seemed suspended. Perhaps it sped up? Or had it ground to a halt? Graves was no longer sure. He also knew that he was on his last shred of sanity. His life was an endless cycle of boredom and terror. Zaun was famous for quickly cycling criminals through the justice system. Of course, this “progressive” nature seemed to strangely correlate the supply and demand required by its many “scientists” that required “volunteers” for various experiments.

Unbeknownst to Graves was that before his incarceration, there was virtually no prisoner population. However, that changed when the city decided that Dr. Mundo was monopolizing all the resources for his “work” and they finally instituted a more fair access to “scientific volunteers” before the city ran out of them.

Of course what few rules did apply would only apply to Graves if he was only formally in the Zaunnite criminal system. In his current situation, Graves was nothing more than a plaything. An example. A rumor to the people of Zaun and Valoran what happens to you when you cross Dr. Aregor Priggs, the name “Malcolm Graves” was turning from a noun into a verb. Soon, it seemed, he would pass from person to legend to myth while his body rotted away in the dark. That was the best case scenario. It was more likely that Graves would meet his end by some experiment that the sadistic “scientist” had devised for him to “test.”

Graves was no stranger to prisons. He had been in cells before all over Valoran, never for very long because he and his….friend…Twisted Fate made sure that any stay between them was brief - but none were as awful as this private place of hell in the windowless Zaunnite dungeon. Before his current situation, Graves had believed he had found hell in the detox holding cells of Piltover. As Graves sat against a hard stone wall, he actually yearned for the time he had been tossed into a cell as his drunkenness was turning to hangover. Apparently it was not wise to attempt to pat a pretty woman in a tall hat on the backside in Piltover. Especially since it turned out that woman was the sheriff of the town. She made sure that Graves paid quite a price for that mistake. Locking him up for the night and well into the morning in a large-but-not-tall cell which he shared with a bunch of troublemaking Yordles that just so happened to be snared by pastry-lined traps. What’s worse than sharing a confined space with a bunch of Yordles? Sharing a confined space with a bunch of Yordles that still ate the sugary treats in the traps that caught them. Graves did not want to play “Catch the Teemo!” Whatever the hell it was, it seemed like a popular game for those pint-sized furballs. However, he simply just became a large obstacle for the Yordles to hide behind. No matter how much kicking he did, he could not dissuade their enthusiasm.

Graves firmly believed that had been hell, until now.


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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

In this place of darkness and silence, a man left alone with his thoughts for too long begins to dwell on unhealthy things. The things that once made Graves almost seem personable, and a good con man in his own right, had disappeared. Denial had turned to false hope, to despair, and all other emotions in between. All those emotions had vanished. Only one consumed him: Hatred. Elaborate fantasies of how he would make Twisted Fate pay for this was now his only motivation for breathing, for eating the gruel and spoiled food that his captors fed him – if they bothered to. His rage and desire for revenge on the fellow con man and former partner had supplanted hope. Hope does not exist in Zaun, and the word is unknown in the dark places under the city. Rage kept him warm, it consumed his thoughts, and it kept him from going mad. Graves was not sure what the rage stemmed from. He never trusted his partner, and knew that one of them would betray the other. Was Graves mad that he hadn’t done it first? Or that he hadn’t seen it coming when it did? The reasons did not matter, it was just the feeling that flowed through his veins that kept him warm in the darkness. It kept him sane.

Until he heard noises outside his cell door, in which case he started to believe he had finally lost it. If Twisted Fate showed up, he’d know for sure he had.

The cell door was made of strong steel with just a little square window near the top that had some bars on it. Still, when his jailors came to feed him, they had some form of light with them. Magic, or torches, or hextech-something-or-other, whatever, but there was no obvious illumination that he could see, but by now he was sure he could hear someone, scratching at or just outside his door. Adding to his sense of hearing there was a strange odor. Strong. Foul. Graves surely knew that after all his time in prison that he did not smell very good himself, but this smell was different. It was as if all the refuse of every person above had congealed into a pool somewhere inside his very prison cell.

“Oh! This one is still alive!” Came a raspy voice. It was followed then by a high-pitched giggle. Graves watched as an eye, bigger than any he had ever seen before, and seemingly creating its own light peeked up over the window and looked inside. “Oooh! You’re a biiiiiig one!” And more of a teasing giggle.

Graves said nothing. Twisted Fate would have had some kind of clever comeback, and maybe the outlaw himself would have long ago, but not anymore. And he was not about to speak to whatever this…thing…was outside his door. It was a trick. Surely another experiment and Graves was tired of being a puppet.

He had wished for some company. Be careful what you wish for.


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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

“So, you are the one that made the doctor-man aaaangry.” More teasing, and a giggle that seemed to trail off into the abyss as if insanity personified was outside his door. Given the state of Graves, it would not surprise him if he was talking to his own insanity. “Did you kill?” a reverent hiss of a question.

Graves tried to speak, but nothing came out. It had been too long since he had tried to form words, it took a moment or two before his tongue and throat came to terms. “Not yet.”

“Excellent!” It was drawn out, as if there were extra letters in it. “That is very excellent! That is how we learn. Science is death. Death is science! Try, try try again!” Followed by more maniacal giggling. “I kill! Want to see?!” Before Graves could answer this there was a sickening thud in the wall near where he was. He looked up and saw what appeared to be a crossbow bolt with oozing pores. The speed of the bolt seemed to hit the wall before he even heard the twang of the crossbow from the other side. “Yes! I made it myself! Science! Death! Always advancing, killing, better science!” said the raspy voice on the other end. Graves remained quiet. At least he wasn’t imagining things. Or if he was, his imagination had improved a lot in a short time. After the giggling died down there was silence on the other side, more rustling, and once again that large eye that seemingly glowed from some inner light peered into the window of his cell.

“I have more like this! Yes! Do you want one? For killing soon? For science?” Was the thing outside his door asking him to help with research? Graves had had enough of helping anyone with research.

“I have my own… science… in mind.” He had his own idea of a weapon, which he had designed in his spare time. Which was very elaborate because in here, there was much free time.

“Excellent! Learn from try try try! Some die fast, not good, slowly, make them into you! Yes! You get it!”

Graves wasn’t sure he got it, but it might not be wise to admit that.

“Who are you?” The con man asked. Though once again, there was probably an Ionian proverb somewhere that warned against a question with an answer that made no sense.

“Ah!!!” As if surprised, “I am me! There is just me though, but soon, soon, more of me. Yes. Lots more. More, more, more, more. I am so close. SOOOOOOO… close…” said as if it were reaching for something just beyond its grasp. “It is inevitable. I need more science, more trying.”

More dying. More killing. More Science. Welcome to Zaun! Funny, the “good doctor” upstairs didn’t seem so bad now. At least he already understood how the ballistics of a crossbow impacted the human body so Graves thought he'd skipped that test until now.


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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

The eye disappeared, and there was only the sound of labored breathing on the other end of the door. “Is doctor-man the one you want to kill?”

“No.”

“Good! Good. Doctor-man made me angry, he makes me angry all the time, but I need him. For science! For more ingredients!” the happy squeal was followed by a sound of scratching. It reminded Graves of a dog using his leg to scratch at an ear. “Who do you want to soon-kill?”

“The man who put me here.”

“Ahhhhhh!!! The Card-Man! Yes!” That got Graves’ attention.

“You know him? Where is he?” His body moved forward, groaning against its sedentary self. The thought motivated him. Moved him from his torpid stupor.

“Gone!” More giggling. “Doctor-man used science, gave him magic, and then poof! I saw it. I see everything, but they don’t see me!” It sounded like the voice was dancing outside his door. Infuriating.

What does that mean?!” Patience had never been one of Graves’ strong points.

The sound stopped. And all breathing seemed to stop too. Graves was so close, so close to learning something, anything, and now he had lost his only lead. If rage gave him strength before, it was now pulsing through his veins. What a tease, it had to be a trick! Another mind game or experiment from that sick quack just to see if he could still get arise out of the outlaw and it had worked.

“Not dead…Gone!” a voice whispered, but this time in his very cell. It couldn’t be though, the door was closed, locked, and yet there it was: a figure, inside his cell with him, hooded, small, like a Yordle, concealed with only a glowing large eye peeking out of it. It smelled of all the waste of the world, as if disease, death, garbage, decomposition, manure, and spoiled fish all congealed into one blob and appeared next to him. It was all Graves could do not to retch. “Poof!” Its “hands” came together and back apart again.

“He vanished?”

“Yes! Yes! Science gave him magic! Don’t you see? Magic is no longer there! Science has won!” In fact, he did dance around in a circle, as if celebrating a private victory. “I hate magic. Magic born, special people, but no work. No try! Science requires try try try. Now work and try makes magic!”

This thing, was an absolute lunatic, but it the mad-creature put some puzzle pieces together. Twisted Fate had always yearned to be magic, and sure the guy had learned how to do slight of hand, card tricks and illusions as part of the con game, but he always yearned to be magic at any price. Graves was just the currency in the transaction.

“I want to destroy magic. Magic put me here, and I want to kill it…” a pause “with science.” If the creature could get in and out without being seen or unhinging the door, then the creature was a clearly a way out of this nightmare.


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BillyTheAttorney

Senior Member

06-17-2012

Do not pander to me! I am NOT STUPID!” It was hard to tell the difference between the hissing of the creature and the hissing of another bolt that smacked the wall near the outlaw’s head. Obviously, his motives had been a bit too transparent.

“You’re right. You’re a doctor of science, I am not.” Flattery could still work. He just had to go the contrition angle. How ironic that the tricks that Twisted Fate taught him might come in handy in hunting the card master down. “I just want to try, try, try, and I want to kill the magic man. I need science to help. Science made magic, science can unmake magic!"

The creature seemed more pleased with this explanation. “Yes, yes, I will help you. For science! And because the doctor-man above made me angry! I explained I needed his special ingredients, I was very nice and he laughed at me!” If the creature did not smell so bad the indignity in his voice would be almost comical. Graves just wanted to avoid any and all of those filth bolts at any cost. “He calls himself doctor-man but he is… ignoramus!

Graves had a feeling that the creature had just learned that word fairly recently in an exchange of scientific theory.

After the little temper-tantrum had died down the creature looked at Graves with that glowing, vacant expression. It never wavered. “I will show him ignoramus! Doctor-man not give me what I want, I will take what he wants!” And like that, the creature vanished. A few seconds later, the cell door creaked open a crack. Was it a trick? Was he dreaming? Could he finally get out of this hell-hole with the help of a creature that looked like an abomination and smelled worse?

“It’s time now! Yes! Go, try, try, try!” Said a disembodied voice from the darkness that seemed to be vanishing. “I must go try too! Much to do, so little time.”

Graves, quietly stepped out, his legs both wanted to run and not work at the same time as he moved the heavy door to the side. There were no signs of the jailors or anyone. It was like nothing had ever happened.

“Soon we try together yes?!” The voice was getting fainter. “Try against each other YES! See who’s try is better, soon! Sooner than you think!” The little giggle continued to get further and further away just as the smell did, and soon Graves found himself alone but outside his cell. A pity, there were a few people he wanted to meet on his way out. He needed to make sure he did. After a bit of a stretch of course, Graves might have to teach some locals a few lessons in physiology on his way out.

The outlaw doubted very much that he would ever encounter the creature again.


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KHDragonn

Senior Member

12-13-2012

Ohhhhh long chapter I like <3

Looks like it will be good. More soon pls

Bump


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