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hookaroo · 8 months

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Laden of the Torn (15 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

***

If Killian had ever believed in karma or some sort of universal justice, the events of the past decade should have fully driven all such notions from his head. And yet, as he was surrounded by unfriendly simians wielding a variety of menacing weaponry a few days later, he found himself appealing to whatever spark of faith still lingered within. Risking his own life to save the child of a creature he barely knew--and a non-human one, at that--what act could be more worthy of a breakthrough in his own daughter’s predicament, however small? This time, surely?

He spread his arms slowly to highlight the lack of weapons. On the advice of Favor, he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze directly as he took stock of the Less warriors. They did not appear substantially different from their First counterparts: a wide variety of shapes and colors, generally sized somewhere between a cat and an average dog. Most with long, expressive tails but some without. The dozen-or-so monkeys watched him with caution but did not appear intimidated by his height.

Focusing on the razor-crested walls in the background, Killian addressed no one in particular with the words he’d been coached to say.

“Will the honorable Less Clan permit a lone member of the Torn entrance to your lands and an audience with Chief Lack?”

The reaction was mixed. Some shook their weapons and bared their fangs with hoots and hisses; others looked offended, derisive, or even mildly amused. A voice from off to Killian’s left rang above the others, and he turned to identify the speaker.

“You use our false name, assigned by our enemies, so it is no surprise you emerge from their cursed territory. Why should the Prime entertain an emissary sent by the Last?”

This Less warrior--or was it Prime? Gods, as if things weren’t confusing enough without each tribe having separate, derogatory names for each other--was one of the bigger animals Killian had seen of either group, with bronze fur and skin, markedly hunched shoulders, and canines the length of a man’s finger. If troop numbers weren’t enough to intimidate a trespasser, this creature alone might do the trick. Killian continued to avoid direct eye contact as he carefully crafted his reply.

“Your rivals… the Last… have indeed given me authority to negotiate on their behalf. I am entirely impartial in the matter and wish only to resolve the issue so I may be on my way.”

The toothy one looked to a comrade, who had been edging closer, peering intently at Killian’s truncated arm. This second Less warrior was less conspicuous, though its remarkable protruding nose gave it a face worthy of a double-take. Killian caught a curious glint in its eyes before it turned away and said,

“Lack will wish to see this Torn fool, regardless of any negotiations that may take place.”

Murmurs of assent came from every direction, and it seemed that this was enough of a majority to not require any further discussion. With far less chaos than the First had displayed, the ring of Less monkeys tightened to become an efficient escort, most at Killian’s back or flanks, weapons at the ready, with only two smaller members up front to lead the way. Pointed sticks prodded Killian into a faster march than he would have preferred, given the labyrinth of blades to navigate. At least he no longer had the ball and chain dragging along behind him, threatening to trip him with every step. Wryly, Killian wondered if the Less/Prime had the same affinity for insect-mediated wound care as their First/Last cousins. Hoping he would not need to find out, he picked his way deeper into hostile territory.

***

Chief Lack, leader of the Less Clan, would tower over Favor if the two stood side by side. But his most striking feature was the apparent inspiration for his name, and what Killian had taken to be idle chatter suddenly made a lot more sense. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Blackbeard had somehow heard about this detail and schemed to use the knowledge to his full advantage.

The intimidating ape loped through the clearing on three legs, holding his handless left forearm tucked against his chest. His shoulders and upper arms were thicker than even Killian's were, and covered in long orange hair that rippled with every movement. He had a wide, flat face with the most human-looking eyes Killian had seen yet, and he was using them to peer intently at the alien in their midst as he chewed casually on a woody green stalk in his mouth.

Lack reached a smooth stone shelf in the center of everything and clambered on top. He sat heavily, eyes still judging Killian, and plucked the plant from between his teeth.

“It is not often I meet a creature similarly tested by the gods,” rumbled Lack, gripping the stalk with his feet and beginning to strip away the tough outer fibers with his single hand. Killian could not help but envy the way his flexible toes made up for the lack of five fingers. “Have you been challenged since birth, or did your affliction begin later?”

Killian answered with practiced patience. “My hand was taken by an enemy, quite a long time ago now.”

“That's more we have in common, then.” Lack bit off a piece of the tender inner shoot and chewed pensively as his gaze continued to bore into Killian. His eyes lingered on the empty wrist held casually at Killian’s side. “How many Warrior Ants?”

Killian released a breath of mirthless laughter. “Far too many.” He nodded at the ape’s corresponding limb. “And you?”

Accurate or not, the translator potion injected a note of bitter humor in Lack’s reply. “More than we had available. A mistake we vowed never to repeat.”

“I'm sorry,” Killian winced, entirely genuine despite the reason for the confrontation. “I can imagine what that must have been like.”

With a lazy flick of his limber toes, Lack dropped a length of emerald husk to the ground. “Indeed. I believe you are one of the few who truly can. But it appears we are both doing quite well now.” He took another mouthful of plant matter. “Let that fact provide the answer to your inevitable question. I allow both ally and enemy to name me by my weakness because it highlights my strength. I can lead just as effectively without a hand, and thus my foes are intimidated and my clan proud to serve under Chief Lack.”

“Oh, is that the inspiration for the name? Here I was, thinking it must describe the state of your heart. Given your willingness to enslave a child.”

Killian risked derailing the so-far civil conversation with his sarcastic reproach, but he needed Lack to know he was not afraid of him. The big clan leader did not immediately react to the accusation.

“What do your people call you?”

“For a long time, I was called Hook. For many of the same reasons as you just mentioned. And as a bonus, it let everyone know exactly the sort of danger they would be facing should they be foolish enough to cross me.”

Lack did not appear impressed by the veiled threat. He took his time scraping the last of the pulp from the stalk, then tossed the empty husk to the ground. Idly scratching at the back of his neck, he bared his teeth in a threatening grin.

“So, Hook-with-no-hook, I would guess by your coloration that you are among the elders of your species. For one possessed of so much life experience, you are surprisingly foolish to involve yourself in affairs you could not possibly understand.”

“It all seems quite clear to me,” snarled Killian. “It doesn’t take a sage to recognize evil.”

Some of the onlookers bristled at the statement, but Lack remained as cool as ever.

“Typical Torn arrogance. Your morals do not apply here. And you have no right to judge us based on Torn standards.”

Killian was in no mood for a philosophical debate. “The bottom line is, I am here on behalf of Favor to retrieve the princess; my reasons for doing so don’t really matter.”

“They do if we can persuade you to see our side and give up your impossible quest.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Killian kept his tone light, but his eyes were hard. “As it turns out, I have a soft spot for children who have been separated from their parents.”

“The child belongs to us now. It has been preordained. If you insist on becoming involved, you will regret it.”

“I have a long list of regrets. I guarantee this won’t be one of them.” Killian sighed and stretched his neck, feeling the pull of ant jaws where deeply embedded fishhooks had torn his flesh. Not a great starting condition for a duel. “How does this work, then; do I officially declare my intentions, or…?”

“Suppose we save ourselves some trouble? Whatever paltry sum the Last have offered you as a reward, we can easily triple it if you will forget this whole thing and be on your way. As the superior and soon-to-be ruling clan, it goes without saying that we have access to treasures well beyond that of our rivals.”

“Not interested. And if you’re truly serious about not wasting time, you’ll accept the fact that my mind is made up.”

Lack pulled a burr from his matted arm hair before responding,

“You are declaring yourself to be the official champion of the Last?”

“Aye,” confirmed Killian.

“Very well. Then allow me to introduce you to the champion of the Prime Clan. Notch of the Prime, step forward and greet your opponent.”

Predictably, it was the saber-toothed monkey who swaggered out of the crowd to face off with Killian. He was not the biggest of the warriors, but with those fangs, he would never truly be unarmed. Unsurprising, then, that he would be their top choice for champion.

“I believe our paths crossed on my way here.” Killian continued to survey his opponent, trying to avoid focusing on the obvious teeth and look for other details, strengths or weaknesses he should be aware of. By simian standards, Notch appeared well-nourished, muscular, and in his prime. Any scars he may carry were concealed by sleek, tawny fur. He had a slender tail that would help with balance and possibly entangling limbs, but Killian wasn't too concerned about its potential to be a weapon. The claws on the monkey's fingers and toes did not seem long enough to inflict any serious damage. As long as Killian managed to avoid the dagger-like teeth, he should be able to overpower the lighter creature in a wrestling match.

“Well then. Shall we get this over with?”

Notch fixed him with a murderous stare. “Only if you are prepared to suffer a quick defeat.”

“And then... let me guess: I become the main course at your victory celebration.”

“The victor chooses his prize,” sneered Lack, and Killian thought he saw a hungry glint in the eyes of the Less audience. He smirked right back at them.

“Just making sure of the stakes. Good to know exactly what it is I will be depriving you of when I win.”

Bluster for bluster. Total confidence meets utter fearlessness. Show the enemy no uncertainty while attempting to inspire doubt in them... a routine so very familiar.

“Quake? You checked him thoroughly for weapons?”

Positioned just beside the stone platform, the black-haired ape that had also served as an escort stood leaning on his knuckles, alert and menacing. He was smaller than only Lack himself, and Killian thanked the gods that he wasn't about to face him in battle instead of Notch. He would be far less confident in his chances against that mass of solid muscle.

“Yes, Chief Lack. He was unarmed and carried only this map.” He produced the worn parchment from beneath his hind foot and handed it to his chieftain. Lack gave it a cursory glance and then tossed it aside scornfully.

“Soon to be pitifully outdated.”

Killian was watching Notch warily in case he decided to try and take him by surprise. But he addressed Lack as he tried to conserve his adrenaline for the battle's onset.

“I have your word? You will surrender the princess to me if I defeat your champion?”

Lack bared his teeth. “As I said before, the victor determines the prize.”

“Before your gods?” persisted Killian, and Lack inclined his head.

“The gods are always watching.”

The evasive answer had to be good enough, for not a heartbeat went by before Lack grunted,

“You may proceed.”

Notch was on Killian like a furry cannonball, and despite his attempts at preparation, he was immediately gasping for breath as forty pounds of fury knocked the wind out of his lungs. He struck out blindly at his attacker, but the monkey was remarkably agile and avoided all but a glancing blow as he rappelled over to Killian's other side. Killian saw teeth flashing toward his face and ducked, again lashing out with both arms and trying to catch hold of the slippery beast. Long fangs slashed his temple as they flew past. His wrist connected with fur-covered muscle, changing its trajectory only slightly as a flailing tail whipped around his upper arm and secured Notch to his target. With some quick and effortless acrobatics, Notch swung himself over to Killian's opposite shoulder and immediately zeroed in on his face again, intent on either blinding him or ripping out his throat with those impressive canines. Killian's only hope was to catch hold of his adversary and use his greater mass to pin him, or as a last resort, try and break his neck.

Killian managed to seize a grasping back paw, and he yanked downwards with as much force as he could muster. Notch squeaked in pain but dug his front claws into Killian's chest, raking long scratches down his ribs as he tried to retain his grip. He sank his fangs into the muscle of Killian’s upper thigh, dangerously close to the vital blood vessels located there. Instinctively, before the fiery pain had even had time to register, Killian snatched at the monkey’s scruff, using his stump to pummel the creature's face as he searched desperately for the hinge that would force the jaw open. Elusive as ever, Notch abruptly released his hold, twisted out of Killian’s grip, and launched himself away.

Surrounding the combatants, the spectators remained mostly quiet, riveted by the battle but showing little in the way of reaction or support for their champion. The silence was a bit unnerving for Killian, who was accustomed to the reactions of his vocal supporters--or detractors, as the case may be. This complete stillness was rare.

Killian had time for one deep breath, and then Notch was scaling him once again, dodging an off-balance kick from a wounded leg. Switching tactics, the clever monkey did not ascend in a straight line, but leapt in zig-zag patterns, sometimes dropping by a foot or two before springing upward again in a new direction. He was unbelievably fast, and with no hope of anticipating his next move, Killian was forced to rely on pure chance to allow him to grab a hold. He had been trying to keep his left arm elevated, a small barrier for the climber and meager protection for his targeted throat. But Notch began nipping at his legs and torso, quick bites that broke the skin just as often as merely bruising, and he was forced to return to ineffective clubbing as a deterrent.

Now throbbing and bleeding in a dozen places, a frustrated Killian dropped to his knees to make himself a smaller target. Notch's fur slipped through his fingers yet again, but as the monkey springboarded off his legs straight for his face, Killian succeeded in snagging a miniature hand. His momentum shifted, Notch still successfully whipped his tail upward and wrapped it tightly around Killian's neck. At the same time, the enraged animal released an ear-splitting screech, lunging for the trapped paw. Killian pulled with his right arm and pushed with his left, hoping to dislodge the tail squeezing his throat. But then those savage fangs were tearing into his hand, grinding at the bones at the base of his thumb, gnawing viciously. With an agonized snarl, Killian again focused his efforts on the powerful jaws damaging his hand. He'd lost his grip on Notch's paw, which was currently clutching his wrist along with its counterpart, and no matter how hard he struck him, his attacker was latched firmly, determined and impervious to any pain by the high of bloodlust.

White-hot, cramping anguish radiated up Killian's arm, past his elbow, and he gritted his teeth, burying terrifying mental images of life without a functional thumb. In desperation, he flung himself forward onto his elbows, banging Notch's head against the packed earth. The little bugger only clamped down harder, his tail squeezing with all of his strength. Beginning to feel lightheaded from the relentless assault on his hand, Killian growled and muscled his left forearm into the scant space between his other arm and the monkey wrapped around it. Even if he could not tear his tormentor free, he was finally in a position to use his weight against him. Killian wriggled his arm forward, pressing down on the monkey's chest, seeking his throat. Notch thrashed and clawed, struggling to breathe even as his fangs dug stubbornly deeper. With one final heave of effort, Killian's stump pounded against Notch’s chin. He felt the vibration lance through his thoroughly mauled hand.

Killian's breath hissed through his teeth as he leaned down harder. He could feel the grip around his neck beginning to slacken, Notch’s struggles becoming more feeble, although his teeth continued to grind away spitefully. Finally, just when Killian began to worry he might lose consciousness before the monkey did, Notch twitched once and then went limp. His tail slithered down to the dirt, his limbs lost their grip, and even the tension in his ferocious jaws drained away, giving Killian a bit more confidence that his opponent was not merely faking. He still had to wriggle the four knife-like teeth out of his flesh, though, and no amount of quiet cursing made that process any easier.

The unnatural silence persisted as Killian sat back and attempted to catch his breath. His pounding heartbeat throbbed within his wounded hand. Blood trickled from each of the punctures and dripped off of his trembling fingers. Gingerly, Killian slipped his hand beneath his other arm, momentarily closing his eyes against the surging pain.

“Bring the princess,” he snarled. He heard nothing, and when he opened his eyes it was to find Lack holding up a commanding fist. The clan leader gestured toward the motionless form of Notch, and Killian could not read his expression. Two of the Less warriors slunk forward, keeping a cautious eye on Killian as they approached their fallen comrade.

“I didn't kill him.” Killian's voice held that edge of overexertion, post-battle fatigue and general done-with-everything-and-everyone prickliness. “But I heard no mention of ‘fight to the death,’ and I'm the clear victor here.”

“You are indeed,” confirmed Lack, much to Killian's relief. Had Lack indicated otherwise, he would have done what was necessary, but he would not have relished the task. He allowed the Less minions to drag Notch away for recovery.

“So bring me my prize.”

Lack shifted his position, never losing his casual demeanor. Though his expression was still hard to interpret, Killian did not like the devious glint in his eyes. “Let's discuss this prize of yours.”

“What is there to discuss? You know exactly what it is I want.”

“Yes, but I don't think you understand what it is you are asking for.”

Killian grimaced as invisible fangs continued to gleefully gnaw away at the bones and cartilage in his hand. “Seems straightforward enough to me. I defeated your champion. Now I’m taking Princess Puzzle back to her family.”

“One champion,” said Lack. “One prize.”

Killian's hand felt like it was about to explode. “Aye. And I'm only asking for one.”

Lack extended his pointer finger. “The princess’ freedom.” He paused dramatically, then held up a second finger. “Your freedom.”

He made a show of pretending to count the two digits, while Killian’s nausea grew at an alarming rate.

“Just in case hand signals do not properly translate, this means ‘two’ in the language of the clan.”

Killian lacked the energy for rage.

“Damn you,” he sighed. “I knew there would be something slimy about all of this. I wonder if your gods approve of your treachery.”

“There is nothing treacherous about it. I am merely listing your options. You can choose to let the princess go free, but then you are obligated to stay a prisoner. And a Last princess wandering alone in Prime territory… I believe the gods would call that fair game.” Pleased with himself, Lack leaned back on his hand and stump. “Of course, you are welcome to wage another battle. Should you defeat our second champion, you would be entitled to two prizes.”

At his leader’s side, Quake straightened almost imperceptibly, looking dangerously eager, confirming his rank. Going up against him would be a gamble at the best of times; chancing it now would be guaranteed suicide. Killian felt hollow, left with only the emotions he knew best: helplessness and failure. He’d been a fool to expect any other outcome.

“Can I take some time to decide?” he gritted out. “I’m not fit for combat right now anyway. Surely the Prime Clan has that much honor.”

Lack did not even hesitate. “We will allow you one night to recover. In the morning, you will make your final decision.” He shot a glance at a creature somewhere behind Killian. “Go with Patch. She will dress your wounds.”

Killian caught the hazy outline of a monkey sauntering toward him before he turned his attention back to the smug face of Chief Lack. “Let me see the princess. Please. If I return empty-handed tomorrow… I could at least tell her father she’s okay.”

It would be a very small consolation. But better than nothing. And he knew that for a fact.

Lack watched him for a moment. Perhaps he saw something haunted in Killian’s expression. Or maybe he was just confident that this impudent visitor had no chance of derailing their glorious future, and felt generous as a result. “Fine. After you’ve been tended to, I will send escorts.” He made an eerily humanlike smirk. “You can tell her father that she will be well cared for. After all, she has a very important purpose to fulfill.”

Despite everything, that statement was enough to make Killian bristle, and he came close to lurching to his feet and tackling the ginger giant right then. But even the very beginnings of tension in his arm reminded him why that would have been so extraordinarily foolhardy. He squashed his fury, saving it for later, just in case. And then his violent imaginings were interrupted by a paw on his elbow, and he decided to deprive Lack of the outburst he was likely expecting. Without a word, he struggled to his feet and turned his back on the pedestalled evil.

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #rescue mission #taunts #fighting match #animal bites #hand injuries #blood #tricked #hollow victory #hopelessness

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fury-of-darkin · 2 years

Text

Chaos Interactions With Every Champ

Ahri: “I remember every battle... And I remember your kind...”

Akali: “Carve your own path, Akali, and cut down any who defy you.”

Akshan: “You would wage war alone... But what if you had allies at your back, Akshan?”

Alistar: “Are you content to watch your kind live and die as Noxian puppets?”

Amumu: “Even in a sea of sorrow, the seeds of strife can still grow...”

Anivia: “How long will your remain idle while your brothers fight, Anivia?”

Annie: “The bear merely reflects what is within you, child. Let it out...”

Aphelios: “Rise against your oppressors, and bathe the sun in blood!”

Ashe: “Your unity will never last...”

Aurelion Sol: “Even the stars are not above war.”

Bard: “May this battle be commemorated in the heavens...”

Blitzcrank: “Can a machine become a warrior? Let us find out!”

Bel’Veth: “This world was forged in war. Its people will fight until the last.”

Brand: “The second-coming of the Runewars is at hand...”

Braum: “To protect what you hold dear, blood MUST be spilled.”

Caitlyn: “The only law on the battlefield is chaos.”

Camille: “The more you oppress the masses, the more their resentment grows.”

Cassiopeia: “You know not what you’ve unleashed, snake... But I thank you, regardless.”

Cho’Gath: “Will the Void consume Runeterra... Or the reverse?”

Corki: “A war to bloody the heavens themselves... Perhaps you are onto something, yordle.”

Darius: “I sense... Hesitation. Doubt. Your time is nearing its end, general.”

Diana: “Lead the Lunari to war, Diana, or they will leave you behind.”

Dr. Mundo: “Remember who you were. Remember what you’ve suffered. Do you not hate them, Mundo?”

Draven: “Battle is not sport, Draven; it is ART.”

Ekko: “So long as Piltover stands, Zaun will suffer. You know this... You can change it.”

Elise: “What will you do, I wonder, when your followers learn the truth of your deceptions?”

Evelynn: “War drew you to this realm, but it seems you developed... Different methods.” Alternate (Joke): “The only lust I feel is bloodlust.”

Ezreal: “You’ve studied my legend. Now, your research has brought you to me...”

Fiddlesticks: “So, you have awakened again... Let us remind them why they fear us.”

Fiora: “I accept your challenge, Fiora.”

Fizz: “The battlefield is no place for games.”

Galio: “Demacia’s greatest weapon... I will cherish this fight!”

Gangplank: “You lost the battle, Captain, but you have not lost the war. Let us turn the tides, together...”

Garen: “To protect Demacia, you must crush ALL your enemies, Garen; even if they are your kin.”

Gnar: “Perhaps the only yordle fit to be considered my muse...”

Gragas: “This is no mere tavern brawl!”

Graves: “The call you a coward, liar, cheater, and fool... But when I am done, they will call you a warrior.”

Gwen: “True battle is far grander than a child’s fantasies. Let me show you...”

Hecarim: “The shadow of war... A shadow of your former glory.”

Heimerdinger: “You cannot escape war, professor. That... Is a fact.”

Illaoi: “Your god and I want the same thing, Illaoi; for you to fight with all that you have!”

Irelia: “Ionia’s enemies amass, even now. Lead your people to battle, Irelia!”

Ivern: “The Godwillow stole all that made you great, Ivern. I will avenge what was taken from you.”

Janna: “Only the worthy are remembered... Why should anyone pray to you, spirit?”

Jarvan IV: “A true king must fight for his right to rule.”

Jax: “You seek warriors to join your cause... Let me help you find them.”

Jayce: “To discard the old and make way for the new; THAT is true progress. That... Is war.”

Jhin: “Oh, the things we could do together, Jhin...” Alternate/Joke: “Finally, someone who understand my work!”

Jinx: “Fear, sorrow, anger, grief... All drowned out by madness.”

Kai’Sa: “It is not enough to merely survive. If you intend to fight, fight to win.”

Kalista: “You would have made a fine vessel for the Bow...”

Karma: “Your words ring true. Now, you must act upon them.”

Karthus: “The most elegant deaths are found in the heat of battle.”

Kassadin: “You crusade against the Void alone, but not for much longer...”

Katarina: “Assassins are but pawns of war, so easily discarded...”

Kayle: “We have fought once before, Aspect. let us see whose vessel triumphs this time!”

Kayn: “Your latest vessel has potential... More than you realize, Scythe.”

Kennen: “The Kinkou grasp tightly to their control of Ionia, strangling it...”

Kha’Zix: “Your are versatile, but can you adapt a warrior’s rage?”

Kindred: “You have witnessed each of my works. Now, prepare for another masterpiece!”

Kled: “Some call you a hero, while others call you mad. There is little difference between the two...”

Kog’Maw: “You remind me of someone I know... But you lack his eloquence.“

LeBlanc: “Do you even remember why you fight? Do you recall your true foe?”

Lee Sin: “So much potential, Lee Sin. You... May be the hero Ionia needs...”

Leona: “You cast love aside for faith, Leona. There is no room for regret.”

Lillia: “You are the walking embodiment of naiveté...”

Lissandra: “You are a coward, surrendering before the fight has even begun.”

Lucian: “Do not fear losing her again. Rage against those that would take her from you!”

Lulu: “The only color I need, child, is crimson...”

Lux: “War is coming, Luxanna. You MUST choose a side.”

Malphite: “You were made to be a weapon, Malphite. Remember your purpose...”

Malzahar: “You are not the first prophet I have slain, nor will you be the last...”

Maokai: “Life prevails, so long as it has the will to fight.”

Master Yi: “Are you truly fit to be called a master? Raise your blade, and show me.”

Miss Fortune: “Your fight is not over yet, Sarah. You must not rest until your foe is crushed.”

Mordekaiser: “We meet again, Sahn-Uzal. May this battle be as glorious as our last...”

Morgana: “How long will you hide from your sister, Morgana? Does she, too, not deserve judgement?”

Nami: “The moonstone only prolongs the inevitable. How long will the Marai tolerate this cycle?”

Nautilus: “Even the seas are but another venue for my work.” Alt/Joke: “I have seen many weapons... You are the first to wield an anchor.”

Neeko: “You may mimic my form, but can you match my blade?”

Nidalee: “Remember what the Kiilash did, Nidalee...”

Nilah: “Sadness and rage, snuffed out by Joy...”

Nocturne: “After the slaughter, the survivors will remember it in their dreams...”

Nunu and Willump: “Some day, you must take up a real weapon, child.”

Olaf: “You will be remembered, Olaf. I will see to that...”

Orianna: “What truly makes one human is the will to fight. Has that, too, been lost...?”

Ornn: “I admire your craft, but your flames are colder than they once were...”

Pantheon: “Remember why you fight, Atreus, or I will remind you...”

Poppy: “Heroes are not born or found; they are forged in blood.”

Pyke: “You are but the echo of bloodlust, wrapped in delusion.”

Qiyana: “Rouse your people, Qiyana! A new age dawns for Ixtal...”

Quinn: “Land or sky, no foe escapes my blade!”

Rakan: “Why do you truly fight, Rakan? For your cause, or for her...?”

Rammus: “People have gone to war in your name, Rammus. How fascinating...” Alt/Joke: “Yes, I am... Alright.”

Rek’Sai: “So the Void wars against itself. Interesting...”

Renata: “Wealth alone will not conquer the world. An empire must be built on a foundation of blood.”

Renekton: “So this is the Magus’s handiwork... I approve.”

Rengar: “In the jungle, you are a hunter. On the battlefield, you would be prey...”

Rhaast: “Your new vessel suits you, Scythe...”

Riven: “You are a warrior at heart, Riven. You cannot escape your own nature.”

Rumble: “An impressive machine, but how long will it last on the battlefield?”

Ryze: “The Runewars were extraordinary, but even greater conflicts lie ahead... ”

Sejuani: “Charge ahead, Sejuani! Let none stand in your path, not even the gods!”

Senna: “Your fight is not done until your enemy is dead, Senna. You disappoint me.”

Sett: “Battle is more than a spectacle. It is art, and I will make you my muse...”

Shaco: “The battlefield is no place for games.”

Shen: “You may see the realm of spirits, but you do not UNDERSTAND it.”

Shyvana: “When the war on magic reaches its apex, who will you stand with, Shyvana?”

Singed: “I know how to summon the monster in men. Allow me to show you...”

Sion: “An impressive attempt, but flawed execution. I will remind you of your true glory, Sion...”

Sivir: “War is on the horizon. You MUST fight, Sivir; it matters not for whom.”

Skarner: “I can help you avenge your kin, brackern...”

Sona: “The clashing of steel, the cries of the dying... These are MY music.”

Soraka: “You seek to protect them? Are you ready to spill blood to do so, Starchild?”

Swain: “March your armies as far as they will go, Grand General. Wage as much war as you can... You haven’t much time left.”

Sylas: “Rouse your kin, Sylas! Crush your oppressors! Show them you will not be silenced!”

Tahm Kench: “We meet again, River King. I thank you for providing me such a compatible host...”

Taliyah: “The earth remembers every drop of blood spilled upon it...”

Talon: “You harbor the instincts of a killer... I may make something of you yet...”

Taric: “A failure of a soldier, yet you would fight for the heavens? Pathetic...”

Teemo: “Beneath a kind smile and unassuming visage lies the heart of something greater...”

Tristana: “Allow me to teach you what it TRULY means to be a soldier...”

Trundle: “Show them your might, Troll King. Teach them to fear your kind, as they once did!”

Tryndamere: “Tryndamere... My greatest creation! Your rage will shake the heavens and earth alike...”

Twisted Fate: “Leave your fate to chance, and she will cut it short...”

Twitch: “You would wage war on the surface? ...I suppose I have worked with worse...”

Udyr: “There is little difference between men and beasts; you are living proof.”

Urgot: “Rise up, Urgot! Let Piltover and Noxus alike feel your wrath!”

Varus: “The bow is the cruelest of us all, yet YOUR hands guide its arrows...”

Vayne: “I sense the fear in your heart, huntress. Your guise cannot deceive me...”

Veigar: “You are but a twisted mirror of Sahn-Uzal... And a small one, at that.”

Vel’Koz: “For all your study, you have learned nothing of human nature. Allow me to enlighten you...”

Vi: “There can be no peace between the cities, Vi. War is coming... For whom will you fight?”

Viego: “You are a pale shadow, Viego; you will fade, and be forgotten.”

Viktor: “Emotion is no weakness, Viktor. Let me remind you what you seek to abandon...”

Vladimir: “You squander our gift, Vladimir. Where I make history, you linger in its shadows...”

Volibear: “Let us remind them of the fury in their hearts, spirit. Let us return this land to its ancient glory!”

Warwick: “An attempt was made, but the end result... I will put you out of your misery, beast.”

Wukong: “Fight and grow stronger, so that all your enemies will fear the name Wukong.”

Xayah: “The price of the freedom you seek is blood, Xayah... From human and vastaya alike.”

Xerath: “Xerath... Your work is truly outstanding. I am impressed...”

Xin Zhao: “You are Demacia’s greatest warrior, Xin Zhao. Make them remember why.”

Yasuo: “You once sought glory on the battlefield, Yasuo. It is not too late to claim it...”

Yone: “The answers you seek will not save you, Yone...”

Yorick: “A war of the undead? Interesting... I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labor.”

Yuumi: “Not all thresholds can be so easily crossed...”

ZAC: “Do not shrink away from what lurks in men’s hearts. It is beautiful, is it not?”

Zed: “Show Ionia’s enemies the might of darkness!”

Zeri: “Your home will never no peace, so long as they live beneath the boots of tyrants...”

Ziggs: “Your work would be greatly appreciated by any army.”

Zilean: “You cannot undo Icathia’s loss, but you can still strive for victory against its destroyer...”

Zoe: “Make no mistake, child: Twilight will discard you when you have served your purpose...”

Zyra: “My blade cuts deeper than any thorn.”

#taunts

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