Short Fiction

Enter, the Kingdom of Nox

He gagged at the wretched taste of the obnoxious air, the poisonous vials of chemtech, the lifeline of the city, was also the thing contaminating it. The murky mist veiled the remnants of the jagged mountains, sapped of all natural beauty, now the entrance to the chem-prisons where rogue warlords ran amok. Screams of distress emanated across the city, anarchy had reached its culmination, the contagion begun to settle in.

The Vanguards had inspired fear into the people, rebels and outcasts took refuge in the slums, fearing for their lives. They were led by a man going by the name of Kuro. He was a figure shrouded in mystery and deceit, very few were said to have seen him as he made all announcements through the use of his messengers. The vaults and banks reeked of the smell of corruption, robberies were so prevalent it could be said that the Vanguards turned a blind eye. Not even the elite were spared by the hand of ferocity, as was demonstrated when the delinquents of the House of Sol, the most prominent constituent of the rebellion, brandished colossal chem-axes and dismembered the heads of a dozen vanguards in a demonstration of savagery and, necessity.

The people of Nox were at wit’s end. They had been deserted by their “saviours” in an act of cowardice and vanity. Now, in retrospect of the dire circumstances which have arrived, they want to act. Many factions were established, some collaborated, some were hostile to all but their kindred. Regardless of their contrasting ideologies, they had one mutual motive, to relieve the Vanguards of their power. At the center of the rebellion was the House of Solstice, led by the unforgiving  Alyss Fortune. Going by the name Miss Fortune, the ingenious outlaw managed to spread her influence across a substantial part of the capital. Once a ruthless mercenary, she found her calling in a position of political influence. Those who make her faction their hostiles should not let complacence get to their head as Miss Fortune has an insatiable bloodlust and does not think twice about getting her hands dirty. Inevitably, she who revels in her infamy has become a stark target of the capital, and those looking to earn a quick buck.

Those outside the gates have become aware of the commotion and have been determined to exploit the situation. Exports from industrial chem-factories have found their way into the stream of black market commodities. War axes, sabres, machinery and all forms of chem powered arms could be bought in the covert pockets of the capital. By arming the rebellion, other kingdoms capitalized, and fueled the usurp of the Vanguards. The outstanding proprietor of these efforts was the Kingdom of Mystral, who sustained a brutal feud with Nox. The king pulling the strings was a man named Silas Crownguard, an intuitive man with an inbred hatred for Noxians.

A leviathan of a man, glanced across the war torn, ragged streets. He possessed stygian, crimson eyes, stark with bloodlust. Those who catch his glance are confronted with the ghastly spectres that reside within him, those entities who torment him and those who have made him. His spiky auburn hair swept down his pale marble like face. His mouth was veiled with a pitch black bandana, the purpose of which was cover the enormous gash which ran along the side of his cheek. His daunting physique was built like a mountain, with colossal arms which looked like they had been ripped off a statue.

His name was Ren.

He was a man of unfathomable resolve, a man driven by vengeance and desolation.

This is his legacy.

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