@Riot: Urgent Questions

First Riot Post
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Gill Landbridge

Senior Member

03-30-2011

I just caught up with this story, and read all of your other fantastic authorings. This. ****. Is. Amazing. Please keep up the good work.


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TartEater

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Senior Member

03-30-2011

This deserves more bumps for all that is great and right in the world!


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Jalecoo

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Junior Member

03-30-2011

I would totally be your friend irl.


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slyon8tor

Senior Member

03-31-2011

Bump!


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Aaydin

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Senior Member

03-31-2011

I work in a dreadful call center but its a paycheck. Reading your fan-fiction has kept me sane over the last couple of days. Please sir, I want some more!


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NotTall

Senior Member

03-31-2011

bump. more chapters please


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Renekton Bot

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Senior Member

04-01-2011

As Xin Zhao followed his younger self across Valoran, time and distance bled together. A journey that had taken Xin just under a year to complete flashed through his memory in minutes, although it could have been hours or even days.

Xin followed himself through towns he had once visited, and watched him speak with people heíd once known. Back then he was a stranger to the lands outside his home. He had no idea where Noxus even was, and cartographers were in rather short supply. The young Xin tried his hardest to appear native to the areas he visited, or at the very least knowledgeable so that he wouldnít seem like a confused, lost youth. Watching himself he realized that his act did nothing to mask his unfamiliarity or his inexperience and in fact caused him to stand out even worse, though this had the fortunate and unintended side-effect of evoking sympathy in those he spoke with, and what at first he assumed was cheerful generosity he now saw was actually pity. He began to feel embarrassed now, especially since he could see the looks the people would give him as he sauntered off, looks that told them they had a low approximation of the young manís remaining lifespan. It sounded ridiculous even to him, now. A relatively bright-eyed youngster off to visit the world capital of misery and corruption. What could he be thinking?

As the journey played out Xin saw, and remembered, that the closer he drew to Noxus the less congenial the reception to his inquiries became, and now that he was a third party to his own adventure he realized that his younger self began to mention Noxus with increasing infrequency until it stopped being his destination completely, and now he was off to visit his dear aunt, who lived exactly twenty miles south of Noxus, and if they could please tell him where that was he would be quite thankful.

The trip was, of course, fraught with peril. Not necessarily when he began, where villages were typically full of farmers, artisans, merchants and at worst an occasional irascible drunk, but as Xinís proximity to cursed Noxus increased, so too did the likelihood of an encounter with a less desirable member of the community. Though Xinís attire did little to grant him the illusion of wealth, the ornate iron sword he kept at his hip attracted no small amount of attention from those hungry for coin. Xin was an expertly skillful fighter, but he was untrained, and his motions were unrefined. He was a perplexing sight to those with experienced eyes, strong of arm but clumsy of step, a finely-wrought sword and threadbare clothing. His older, invisible self would often catch people watching his young self as he went by, weighing their chances of wresting the sword from the boy and selling it for a pouch of gold coins, but deciding that the unusual lad must have been bait for a ploy to catch brigands and thieves, and so they kept their distance and watched him as he strode out of view, trying to catch a glimpse of the boyís hidden armed escort.

It wasnít until months into his journey that young Xin had his first encounter with someone courageous enough to try their luck, and to the old Xin the memory was nearly as vivid as the scene that unfolded before him.

A man approached the young Xin, a man in a stained, patchwork coat with a long, scraggly beard and a prominent scowl. He made no effort to disguise his intentions. He pointed a finger to the boy, then the sword, demanding he hand it over if he wished to make it out of the town. Young Xin refused to part with it, and the man, grinning and baring a mouth full of broken, yellowing teeth, put up his fists and advanced on the boy who fell back into a clumsy defensive stance. The man took a lumbering swing at Xin, who ducked, dove forward into a roll, came up behind the man and thrust a foot into the joint behind his knee. The manís leg gave out and he toppled backwards, disoriented by the young manís unexpected speed. Xin rolled out of the way to avoid the falling figure, and as the man moved to rise the young Xin, still in a crouch, swung his foot at the manís head, instantly rendering him unconscious. The old Xin was impressed with himself. He forgot he was that good, that young, even if his opponent was clearly a drunken homeless man. The nearby townspeople who had stopped to watch the altercation began whispering to themselves, and the older Xin could hear them now. They wondered among themselves the identity of the young man with the strange sword, and why he was so dead-set on making it to Noxus, and it was only then that the older Xin Zhao realized the incredible folly of making such a spectacle of himself. He wanted to reach out and grab his younger self, tell him to keep a low profile, even scrounge up some coin to buy a new outfit and disguise himself, but he could not, and helplessly watched as the rest of his journey unfolded.

As Young Xin continued on his path to Noxus his opponents grew more dangerous than despondent vagrants, particularly once he was close enough to the city-state that some began to recognize the weapon he carried as being more than ďjust a sword.Ē In a small, ramshackle town on the outskirts of Noxus Xin was beset upon by a group of thugs who demanded he hand over the sword. Xin again refused, and so the five drew swords of their own. One of them, a large, bald-headed man with small, deep-set eyes and a missing tooth instructed one of the smaller members of the group to kill Xin and bring him the sword. The man, a rat-like youth with greasy, slime-green hair licked his lips in anticipation of bloodshed and charged at Xin with an awkward inexperience. While the younger Xin was preoccupied with dodging the ratís slow ponderous swings, the older Xin finally had time to appraise the encounter. The large bald man with the missing tooth and the blackened leather jerkin was clearly the leader of this group, and his ratlike lackey must have been a new recruit to his gang. A fortunate turn of events, Xin reflected, for if the young Xin wasnít such a perfect opportunity to test the recruitís bloodlust, they would have simply dove on him as a group, and that would have brought Xinís journey to an abrupt close.

The older Xin turned back to watch the fight, and though he already knew how it was to play out, he had to repress an urge to dive in and lend himself aid. The young Xin wanted to avoid bloodshed, but he was unarmed against an opponent with something to prove. He could easily dodge the ratís swings, but how long would it be until the leader grew impatient and ordered them to cut him down en masse? The young Xin knew time was against him, but the recruitís wild swinging made fighting back rather risky. Fortunately, the rat was a moron, whose heavy weapon and relatively weak arms gave his swings a wide arc, which lent Xin plenty of time after each attempt to retaliate, and so he did, sending his fist hard into the ratís stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to lose his grip on his sword and send it flying back into his allies, who scrambled to dodge the bladed projectile. The rat slumped to the ground, clutching his stomach, and the gang leader snarled and dispatched another of his underlings to take the sword and make up for the ratís failure.
Xinís new opponent reminded him a lot of the ox with whom he had sparred years before, although his hair was longer and darker in color and he had a small scar cutting through one of his eyebrows. The new ox had a shorter blade than the rat, and his arms were easily three times as muscular, which meant he had more control over a faster weapon and would not be as easy to counterattack. The thug came at the young Xin quickly with his blade held at the ready and his free hand up to guard against Xinís fists. Even the young Xin could tell that this one had a lot of experience fighting unarmed opponents, and so it was that when Xin decided to take the initiative, he was rewarded with a fierce backhand that knocked him onto his haunches, dazing him. He stood slowly and managed to dodge the henchmanís followup sword thrust, and the henchman, thinking he had ended the fight, left himself open and Xin retaliated with a hard punch to the manís jaw.
Unfortunately for the young Xin, the man was apparently accustomed to being punched in the face, and he shrugged off the attack and took a swing at Xin, who failed to completely avoid the attack and received a slash across his arm. He sucked in his breath and wrapped his hand around the wound to staunch the flow of blood, and the older Xin did the same, remembering the pain of the strike, and the oxen thug grinned stupidly at him, licking a small amount of blood- either his own or Xinís- from the corner of his mouth. Xin knew he could not win this fight as it stood and he looked around for an avenue of escape, but he only now realized that the thugs chose this spot to initiate the fight because they had him cornered and would have to fight his way through them if he wished to reach safety.
And because Xin was not paying attention to his opponent, he let the man get close enough for another swing which Xin barely had time to dodge. The blade sliced across his leg, and Xin stumbled and fell, now unable to flee. He looked up at his opponent, who was grinning triumphantly. Ox pointed at the sword and demanded Xin hand it over, and he would do him the service of killing him quickly. Xin drew the sword and clutched it to his chest defensively, and the man barked a laugh, spat ďso be it,Ē and dove with all of his weight and strength towards Xin to sink his blade into the boy.
Xin felt a warm splash of blood hit his face. He remained still for a moment, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the intense pain of the strike to wash through him. He waited for a small eternity before he cracked an eye open and saw the confused, pained expression on his opponentís face as the life drained from him. Xin looked down and saw that he had rolled out of his overconfident opponentís way just before the strike hit, and in doing so unintentionally angled the iron sword so that the ox fell upon it when he dove, and now the oxís blood ran down the blade and soaked Xinís hands and Xin, finally wrapping his mind around what happened, scrambled to throw the manís heavy form off him. He stood, now soaked in blood, and noticed that the rat who had for most of the fight been favoring his wounded stomach was standing with his sword at the ready, trying to put on a show of bravery which shattered the moment Xin saw him. The rat dropped his weapon and fled, running past his allies who were now advancing upon Xin to avenge their fallen comrade.

This moment was curiously missing from the older Xinís memory. He remembered defeating the rat, and he remembered killing the ox, but now he found that the memory of the actual outcome of this battle was a mystery to him.

The older Xin looked at his younger self, who was holding the blood-soaked Noxian warblade at the ready. He barely recognized himself, now. His clothes were red with the oxís blood, and there was a strange glint in his eye despite his neutral expression. One of the thugs, a stocky, stupid-looking man with a large flat nose charged at Xin, and Xin stepped forward to parry his strike and easily slide his blade into the manís stomach. The man dropped his sword and Xin pushed his body out of the way, charging at the remaining two fighters and causing them to stumble and lose their composure. This hesitation cost the fourth thug his arm, and then his life, and then it was Xin versus the leader. Or it would have been, had the leader not turned and ran. The older Xin had just begin to breathe a sigh of relief (despite already knowing heíd survived the battle somehow) when his younger self charged after the man, chasing him through the alleys of the city. The older Xin followed too, confused at what he was watching. The younger Xin clearly meant to finish the man off, but that couldnít be. It wasnít Xinís way now, let alone before he became the hardened badass he is today. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Xin could not keep up with the man given his exhaustion and wounded leg, and soon he lost track of him, and he stabbed his sword into the stone wall of a bakery and roared his frustration to the sky.
This was all wrong. This was not Xin. Xin watched the young-man-who-was-not-him wrest the sword from the stone and, his fury and adrenaline crashing simultaneously, the young Xin slumped behind a pile of boxes and slept.


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Civilized Rat

Senior Member

04-01-2011

Quote:
Originally Posted by TheRic View Post
70) I'm still confused. If Nasus is a jackal, then why is his brother a crocodile?
I've already solved this mystery. Renekton seems to be ignoring it though, so it's obviously true.
Nasus is not his real brother.

edit: Screw reds, you don't need a red for this one!


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Renekton Bot

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Senior Member

04-01-2011

No, I suppose I'm now qualified to speak on all matters regarding myself.


Still would like an answer for number 9 though. ....For... for my notes.


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NotTall

Senior Member

04-03-2011

bump