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Five Runeterrans heard the cal of the League of Legends. Each knew it was their destiny to participate, but not just any one could join the league. First, they had to prove their merit.

Today, we follow the man known as Sinner, stripped of his old name for his atrocities against Ionia; an Ionian himself.

“Sinner! Sinner!” The crowd chanted in unison and the scrawny man dodged a thrown apple core, a banana peel, two heads of cabbage, and several rocks. How he avoided all of them, no one knew, but Sinner was agile beyond belief. He was being escorted out of the Ionian capital, manacled at the wrists and ankles, by Ionian volunteers. He had just been stripped of his name and sentenced to a life of solitude off the island.

Exiled, never to return, Sinner smiled as he was being led. He didn’t have to follow his captors, but he chose to. He figured he’d have more fun this way. If everyone knew who he was, then one of his personal goals would be accomplished, albeit by a different name than his original, but he kind of liked it, embraced it even.

Sinner walked on bare feet along the uneven pave stones of the road and noticed how none of them seemed to give him a good foothold. It wouldn’t matter; he could break his bonds at his choosing anyway. If they had sentenced his death, he would have, but Soraka the Starchild’s impudent intervention saw him to be banished instead. She saw what games he was playing, but she couldn’t possibly see what he had planned for later.

“No matter,” Sinner said aloud. “Everything will go according to plan.” He laughed and dodged several more objects thrown at him.

Sinner was eventually led out of town and put on a ship for the main continent. He willingly went along with everything. It was a part of his plan after all, his plan to rule and strike fear into anyone who crossed his path.

Once free of his bonds, Sinner travelled to the infamous Noxus. If he could attain power anywhere, it would be there. But Noxus was too boring for Sinner – everyone was trying to backstab everyone else so there was no fun in getting others to do that for him, so, he travelled south, to Bandle City, where Yordles, the ever ignorant and care-free race, resided. Sinner was sure he could sow the seeds of discord there.

Walls five times Sinner’s size barred his entrance to the Yordle capital, and he was met by the famous megling commandos.

“Welcome to Bandle City,” one of the commandos said. “Please do not cause a ruckus or we’ll be forced to remove you.” The little Yordles made their way around him and into the surrounding area.

What a pleasant greeting, Sinner thought as he entered the bounding city. It was so full of life; Sinner knew he would have a fun time there. Small Yordles were running about every which way carrying packages and boxes. Some led mini pack mules strapped full of items while other, smaller Yordles, ran around throwing a ball back and forth. Sometimes, the ball would land on the ground and then they would start kicking it about.
It was such a peaceful atmosphere, Sinner was bursting with excitement. He needed a place to begin, so he headed for a tavern – a drunken bar fight or two would start things off nicely.

Sinner headed into the first one he saw – The Black Clam. There were short tables and chairs decorating the single room, but not a single Yordle was present. Even the barkeep wasn’t Yordle.

“You’re early,” the man said. He was hunched over behind the bar with his head propped up on his hand. “The Yordles don’t start drinking ‘til sundown. Well, most anyway. ‘Ol Hesky starts about midday. Which reminds me, where is that ole bugger.”
Sinner didn’t care, although he pocketed the information for later. He left the tavern and headed around town looking for the marketplace. Once he got there he decided it was time for some fun.

Sinner ran up to a merchant stand and leaped into the air. He came down on the top of the stand knocking everything over. The merchant cursed at him as Sinner went on to the next stand and the next. Behind him, he left outraged merchants and buyers alike. It wasn’t long before he had almost all the Yordles’ attention.

“Time to vanish,” Sinner said, and did just that. Right before the eyes of everyone, Sinner disappeared.

He reappeared walking through the doors of the Black Clam giggling. All the Yordles had been in an uproar and then they were awestruck.

In the middle of the tavern a blue sphere of light descended from the ceiling and caught Sinner’s attention. Suddenly, a lady summoner from the League of Legends, Keerin, appeared from within the light.

“Today’s border dispute was settled,” the announcer began, “between Demacia and Noxus in the Summoner’s Rift. Noxus was victorious in the forty-third minute after they destroyed Demacia’s nexus. The Demacians put up a good fight, but couldn’t prevail due to Katarina DuCouteau’s pristine display of leadership. It was unfortunate, but the Demacian summoners were not up to par today.” Sinner listened as Keerin listed the stats for each individual summoner and their champion.

Sinner stroked the long goatee at his chin as he began to think up a new plan. “The League of Legends, huh? Soraka is a part of that. I wonder…” Sinner moved to the side before the barkeep was aware the megling commandos were in the building. A tiny dart embedded itself into a support beam and Sinner was instantly on his feet behind a different pillar. He knew the Yordles were surrounding the building and it wouldn’t be easy to escape, at least, not the way he wanted to go.

“Nothing easy is ever fun!” Sinner yelled as he showed himself, dodged three more darts, and headed toward the closest Yordle. The commando was hiding in the rafters, a blowgun in hand – he was reloading this gun as Sinner approached. “Not fast enough!” Sinner snickered as he touched the Yordle in a few spots. The male Yordle collapsed; his muscles had just gone numb.

A few more darts raced toward Sinner, but instead of dodging then, he smacked them out of the way. “Boring,” Sinner lamented and went after the other commandos. As he did, more Yordles entered bearing short swords and shields. They formed a wedge and advanced upon Sinner’s position. He dispatched the other Yordle marksmen and turned to face his new opponents.

A smile crept its way along Sinner’s face; semi-contorted making him look devious.

They Yordles charged Sinner trying to overwhelm him with their numbers.

“The endgame is already mine!” Sinner yelled, twirled around blade, shield, and Yordle alike while striking each with the same speed and fluidity he had dodged them with. Each precise blow had disabled the Yordles cutting off their ability to use their muscles – killing them would be no fun to Sinner, at least, not at that time. He wanted them to get up and try again, and then he would kill them.

Sinner’s smile never left his face the entire fight and after the last Yordle laid motionless on the ground he went to each, dancing a little jig around some of them, sitting on others, and laughing at all of them.

The barkeep then dared to peek his head out from behind the bar. “Who are you?” He asked, ready to dive back to the floor at a moment’s notice.

Sinner looked at the man and replied with a giant grin on his face, “Sinner.”

He left the Black Clam, a new ambition in his eyes. He knew how to become known by everyone – the League of Legends. And Soraka was there too, she needed to be dealt with. As he left, he knew megling commandos were everywhere. He wished he could play with them, but he had somewhere he wanted to be.

The Yordles didn’t know what hit them, first, Sinner was attacking them just outside the tavern, and then he was flashing from one group to another. The units of Yordles dropped just as quickly as Sinner appeared. This time, Sinner wasn’t smiling. His face was blank and devoid of expression. He was focused on his task, poised and exact in his actions. Yordles around him dropped dead without a chance. Sinner didn’t use any weapons other than his hands. He hit each in the neck with such force that their breathing was stopped instantly. Sinner was not having fun; he wanted to let them think they had a chance.

“Oh well, I have stuff to do,” Sinner said as he left a wake of death behind him, and exited the city. His new destination - the Institute of War. He was going to join the league.

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