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Borrowed Time

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Junior Member


This is my second attempt at a little fan fiction. It's been fun to fill in little experiences that individual characters have had prior to entering the league. This piece explores a moment where Varus begins to seek his revenge against Noxus for destroying his village. Hope you like it!

Borrowed Time

Gazing at the dark crystals that protruded from his skin, Varus remembered the sight of his village after the pillaging. He remembered the houses that had been squashed by artillery fire, as if a giant had rubbed them out with the heel of his foot. His people were no longer discernable. There was just a bloodied mass of flesh sitting in the center of the town, faces pulverized and bones poking out from under the skin, occasionally staking into another body.

He blinked once, returning himself to the present. He didn’t have to blink again. His eyes had dried out long ago and corruption had taken their place, promising augmentation, if only for a short time. He did not want to be in the present, but his memories were no longer a place of solace. His body was on a collision course with its own demise, and Varus figured he might as well take any Noxians that were in his path down with him.

The high rise he was standing upon overlooked all of Noxus. With the enhanced vision the corruption offered, he could make out individual people making their way about the streets. He spotted a frightened little girl clutching a teddy bear, being led into the halls of the central castle, by armed guards. He looked through the windows of the castle and waited patiently, as nameless faces drifted through the openings. He didn’t care if he had never seen them before. To him they were all individual components that created Noxus, the people responsible for the destruction of his village.

Pulling out his bow he spread the tension of his first arrow across two energy strings instead of one. The technique required to fire such a powerful shot had taken some getting used to, but now it was as natural to him as the dark energy that eroded his insides and replaced him with itself.
He diligently pulled back the bow and as he did he felt the darkness momentarily lose interest in his body and pour some of itself into the arrow. It grew dark and quivered with power.

He released.

The arrow flew well over a mile before hitting its mark. Varus watched it sail away, inalterable in its trajectory, and hit an armed guard in the small opening between his faceplate and body armor, drilling through his neck and severing his tender spine. He dropped dead on the ground and a surge of rage flooded through Varus as he pulled back a second arrow.

He released.

This time it hit a young ragged boy who was being beaten by a couple of guards for coming to close to the castle gates.

He released.

The arrow hit a scribe trying to finish the prince’s speech.

He released.

The arrow hit a woman that was taking a mid day nap.
He continued to fire indiscriminately into and around the castle, tearing at his endless quiver clawing for the next wicked arrow. He began to fire faster and faster, letting the energy from the blight crystals regulate his motions, unleashing destruction on anyone who wore the title of Noxian.

He began to fire hails of arrows, three to five at as time, showering the streets, each one deadly in its precision, cutting through bone and organs as if they were a feast to be devoured by the hungry tips of his projectiles.

He continued his grim work until his sensitive ears heard the light tremors of footsteps scurrying up to his perch, trying to kick him out of his nest. Varus laughed a deep dark laugh full of hatred, and turned to face the attackers. There were trees in the way but he did not need sight. He closed his eyes again and let the crystals on his firing arm resonate to the reverberations of the footfalls, and align with their frequency. He fired into the trees, blindly and heard the scream of a fallen soldier. He fired again and again, and again, but the forces kept coming. He kept firing until they smartened and took cover behind the trees and spread out surrounding him in a semicircle, pinning him to the cliff face.

“Lower you arms!” cried one of the soldiers. Varus did as he was told and waited until the soldiers mustered the nerve to leave their hiding spots and begin to enclose him.

As they did he blinked again, remembering the way he cast himself into the pool of corruption, promised by its sinister whipers that power he needed to rip apart all of knocks. It’s greedy venomous form leeched into his body, entering it like a new home to abuse at its will. The corruption devoured his memories of joy, the days of childhood where he lay snuggled in his mother’s arms, warm and protected. It stripped away his pride, and eviscerated his honor. It hollowed him and began to gorge on his body, reminding him that it could give him boundless power, and that by the time it consumed him entirely he would have his revenge.

Varus opened his eyes and looked at the surrounding forces. There were twelve of them in total. “Put down the bow,” said the commander in the back of the pack. She had a large engraved blade that glowed a bright green. Her white hair was pulled back in a bun and she was dressed in light cloth.

Varus smiled. The bargain he had made with the corruption was a terrible one, but it had not disappointed. He gathered his energy and fired a slew of corruption at a nearby solder. The warrior squealed as the sludge punctured his fleshed and staked his body to the ground as if the guard was a piece of fabric being sown onto a shirt. It greedily spread to the remain troops as well and as it worked, Varus pulled out his bow, and began methodically executing the soldiers, one at a time.

The commander, however, jumped out of the way of the expanding sludge and drew herself up for an attack. She tried to vault at Varus but he fired an arrow that missed her by inches. She drew closer but he fired a volley into the air that transformed into bolts of pure blight that hailed down on the commander. She shielded herself with the gigantic armament she was wielding, but the blight sunk into the earth and stuck to her feet, slowing her down. Varus began to fire at a lightning speed, shooting for any exposed point on her body. The commander was forced to retreat, running for the cover in the thick shrubs.

As she tore her feet from the ground she began to fall back, into the trees and out of sight. Varus took a deep breath and listened carefully for the foot falls. He elongated his bow and drew a massive arrow out of the quiver. He strung it and tugged back as hard as he could. He listened so intently that he could almost hear the sounds of his village burning, the sounds of the world around him crumbling to its feet. How he hated those encumbering noises that whirled and repeated endlessly in his head, he would do anything to stop them. Anything.
He released.

For a moment there was no sound at all. Then suddenly, a cry of terrible, agonizing cry of pain emanated from the brush. He opened his eyes and listened carefully. That sound could almost eclipse the noises of the fallen.