No. 777

First Riot Post
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DT777

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Senior Member

01-19-2011

[From the log of C.T.K., Captain of the Noxian Home Guard, and Warden of the third Noxian Prison Facility.]

July 19, 20 CLE

The prisons are full. This in and of itself is a rather boring fact. The prisons are almost always near full. Hell, one of the first things a Noxian child learns is that if they are going to break the law, they'd best not get caught.

What makes it interesting is what I found while trying to make room. Like all of my predecessors, when room runs out I look for prisoners that the High Command would approve for execution. I sent word to one of my clerks to bring me a list of prisoners who met certain specifications that I thought would help speed up approval. The prisoners are all numbered in the order that they arrived, and the numbers stretch all the way up to ten thousand, after which we roll back around to one. All of the numbers in my list currently read something like 8375, 8922, 9001, 8675.

Now here's the odd thing. One of them read 12. Even at the rate we throw people in jail, Mr. 12 here would have had to been at least a hundred years old, because the last time we went back to one was several generations before I was even born. Going to do some digging tomorrow, if time allows.

July 27, 20 CLE

Finally got around to looking through Mr. 12's records. There's no record of when he was incarcerated, what his name is, or even when he was born. Oh, and apparently at least seven of my predecessors had put him up for execution. If the logs are to be believed, after being beheaded he would pick up his head and be escorted back to the prison.

Oh, and of those seven predecessors, one of them was the very first warden of this facility. Which means Mr. 12 here is almost as old as Noxus itself, if not older. Just who exactly is this guy? Why has he been left in here? The only thing I know about him is this cryptic note left in his file that says “DO NOT REMOVE HIS SHACKLES.” All caps. Bold font. If we ever have to move him, I'll make **** sure those shackles don't come off.

Oct 30, 20 CLE

Asked about Mr. 12. Some of the guys I know happen to have connections with the Nobility and even the High Command. Now, typically if I want to know something and it turns out I shouldn't exactly be asking about that sort of thing, I typically find out pretty quickly. Suits show up, remind you who you work for and that you should keep your head down, and tell you not to ask about what you asked about. And that's the only warning you get. If you persist, you disappear. I've seen it happen before.

I got none of that with Mr. 12. I also got no information. The High Command doesn't even know who this ******* is. You'd think they'd have some record or some paperwork somewhere, but no. Who, or rather what, he is is even unknown to the state. I don't like the thought of that. I think I'll pay Mr. 12 a visit tomorrow. See if he knows who he is.

Oct 31, 20 CLE

I went to the West Wing today, to follow up on Mr 12. I've always tried to avoid this area, something's off about it. Now that I think about it, maybe it was Mr. 12 that was off.

Useless. The man is a gibbering fool. He wouldn't stop muttering to himself. It was giving me the creeps. I've been the Warden of this prison for years, and visiting that man has been the only time I've ever felt fear in these halls. I think he knew too. He glanced up at me, from his corner, and those red eyes of his just froze me still. With a 2 inch steel door between us. Somehow, I felt like that door wouldn't really have been a problem for him to get through at all. When he glanced up, his muttering became clear enough for me to catch all of one word. But honestly, I think that's all he was muttering to himself, that one word over and over and over again: “Blood.”

I need to stop thinking about it. Just let him rot in that cell. He can't hurt me from there.

10 January, 21 CLE

A Noxian attendant came through today. With release papers for Mr. 12. Everything I know says I should have just burned those papers, consequences be ****ed. I handed him the key to 12's cell and shackles, warning him that he was about to make a big mistake. He simply smiled at me.

Whatever fear 12's madness invoked in me was dwarfed in comparison to the fear I felt from that man's smile. Something told me that when he smiled, very bad things were about to happen.

As they left, I noticed they had armed Mr. 12. He turned and smiled at me, showing none of his earlier madness. I think [The rest of the page is soaked completely in blood and is completely illegible.]


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SlyGoat

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01-20-2011

tl;dr


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DT777

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01-21-2011

Quote:
Originally Posted by SlyGoat View Post
tl;dr
You're just jelly my stuff is better than your stuff.


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PeasOfCrab

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01-22-2011

How is this (interesting) third post related to the first two? Or will we find out soon?


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SlyGoat

Member

01-22-2011

Quote:
Originally Posted by PeasOfCrab View Post
How is this (interesting) third post related to the first two? Or will we find out soon?
it's obviously related, just wait and see bro. it's all part of what a great author uses to keep his readers interested.

not that im implying DT is a great author. **** that guy.


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DT777

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01-22-2011

Quote:
Originally Posted by SlyGoat View Post
it's obviously related, just wait and see bro. it's all part of what a great author uses to keep his readers interested.
Fixed for you.


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The Masked One

Member

01-24-2011

I want next part! D:<


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SlyGoat

Member

01-24-2011

spoiler for next part: DT's mary-sue character has *** with Singed to fulfill DT's own sick fantasies. that's how all fanfictions end up.


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DT777

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01-24-2011

Quote:
Originally Posted by SlyGoat View Post
spoiler for next part: DT's mary-sue character has *** with Singed to fulfill DT's own sick fantasies. that's how all fanfictions end up.
Spoiler's for Slygoat's epic: His poetry is still bad and prose is still the better art form.


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DT777

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Senior Member

01-24-2011

Revenge. Trips mulled the meaning of the word as he rested in bed. His appearance had unnerved the Mad Chemist of Zaun, but he hadn't really given much thought as to exactly how he was going to exact justice on him. Setting him up for a lab accident was too obvious, and too dangerous. Singed would be watching for that now that he knew 777 was still alive. Not to mention that the idea of it just felt childish. He had removed people from the equation with accidents before, but it was an impersonal act of his youth.

No, his revenge on Singed and Warwick would have to strike home for both of them. Warwick was easy: find a way to reverse his Lycanthropy. The old bastard loved his new form far more than his old wretched body, reverting the change would crush him. He wouldn't even be able to return to his old life: Singed had taken over his position and Warwick hadn't touched a lab in years.

Singed would be hard though. Like Warwick, Trips had fallen out of practice with his Chemistry. It would be hard to win the lab from him, not without considerable effort. Killing the Chemist off just seemed too quick. He wouldn't get to savor it. Trips didn't even want the lab any more. Not really. The only real reason he had to want the lab is so Singed couldn't have it. Like the accidents, he deemed the action childish. Alone, it was a petty action, one not worthy of his revenge.

He ran a hand through the new hair the good surgeon had grafted on his head. Maybe he was a little petty, but even the most ascetic people indulge themselves, every once and a while.

“I'll take the League from him.” He mumbled to himself. “Then his title. Then his lab. And then I'll wipe his name from the history books. By the time I'm done, no one will even know he existed.”

“Talkink to hyuself iz not a goot sign. Hy fink maybe ve ought to go diggink in hyu brain and fix dot, yah?” The Bloodsword's accent still caught him off guard. It was unlike anything he had heard before. Apparently, he couldn't even speak Common at all until a few days before the first operations.

The Noxian, Devon Talisen, had told him the surgeon's primary language was this esoteric and dead language that dated back to before the founding of Noxus. By chance, Talisen happened to have a very rough understanding of it: whatever organization he worked for used it for code. That's probably why the recruited the Bloodsword in the first place.

“No thanks. Not crazy. Need to vocalize some thoughts.” He paused for a second. “Well, not completely crazy. I've heard things about you though.”

The Bloodsword laughed, and it chilled Trips to the bone. He made a mental note to try to avoid making him laugh in the future.

“Some vays, yez. Some vays, no. Hy, uhh...had focusink problems. Hy can't even count how long Hy vos starved. Hy tink...700 years? More? Trapped in darkness, in tiny room, no contact. Dot kind of crazy, not easy to fix, Hy think. De sword helps.”

Trips glanced at the red blade that hung from the Surgeon's side. Ah, so that was the Bloodsword, not the person that stood in front of him.

“700 years. That's a long time. Long enough to forget one's name. Is that why they call you the Bloodsword now?”

“Yah. Ze sword clear the mind, but much of mine memoriez are all jumbled up. Hard to focus on zem, since Hy hev to supprez the sword's blood thirst. But Hy suppoze, eazier dan if Hy could clear my mind myzelf. The thirst used to be much stronger, probably vy Hy vos in that cell.”

As they were speaking, Talisen slipped into the room, his eyes sharp and focused. The surgeon turned immediately the face the Noxian.

“Somfink rong?”

Talisen ignored the question.

“Is he ready? For the next part?”

Both Trips and Bloodsword chimed in unsion, “Yes.”