Comment below rating threshold, click here to show it.
Grand Viper wrote this but he refuses to post it so here you guys go. Dares FTW.
A bunch of Noxians were walking around one day in Ionia, happily skipping through the gore and massacre of the battlefield. “We are pretty kitties and this is our pretty ditty~” They happily sang in unison. Gleefully grinning they stabbed through a groveling Ionian. “This is the ditty of a kitty that is pretty who is silly~”
Suddenly the sky darkened. The soldiers looked up and saw a hail of black, gnarled arrows rain down upon them. Screams of pain and agony filled the air, the battlefield now slick with their gore and blood. A man stepped forward, his pale face was contrasted by the circlet that rested on his brow. He only wore a red scarf on around his neck, his entire chest glistened in the sun. His arms resembled the same features of the horrid black arrows that killed these Noxian soldiers. What was most staggering about this man was not the ridiculous and impractical bow he carried about him, nor was it the fact that he had glowing white eyes instead of pupils so he can actually see his target: It was his pants. Too beautiful to describe these pants properly, one foolhardy Noxian soldier actually looked directly at them. He screamed and clutched his eyes in agony and fell over dead. The Ionian archer snorted at him, “Fool. He was not worthy to look upon these silks of mine.”
Stepping to the fallen soldiers, he fired arrows at point blank range in the heads of the soldiers to assure their deaths. Only one remained who coughed up blood, grinning at the Ionian. The archer glared at the Noxian, “Why do you smile in death? Did this please you, all this killing?”
The Noxian shrugged, “I suppose. Not as much as your *****in’ pants. Seriously, nice make man.”
“*****ing? *****ING?!” The Ionian screamed, “You monster! You made me into a whiny tortured soul! You took everything from me! You took away my wife, my child, my dog, even my sweet goldfish Goldie!” He shook his fist angrily to the air, tears streaming down his face, “These pants…these are the only things you Noxians didn’t take from me.”
“How ‘bout a shirt, huh?” The Noxian rolled his eyes, “Your complexion makes it hard to look at you. It’s like looking at snow or something.”
“That shirt…” The Ionian wept louder, “That shirt was taken from me by you monsters. It was as beautiful as the pants, it made my ensemble complete! THEN YOU TOOK IT! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING!”
The Noxian roared in laughter, “Where do you think those pants came from in the first place, Ionian?”
The Ionian glared at the Noxian, “Does it matter to you, scum?”
“It does…” The Noxian died as he hissed aloud, “When they’re the latest in Noxian fashion…”
The Ionian looked at the Noxian, then at his pants. Quickly unzipping he threw them off. Sweat drenched his face. He read the tag, “Made In…Noxus…” He started crying louder because he’s a baby, “No…No…! NOOOOOOO!”