I would like a short story about Rengar please :3 He's a guard, and I thiiiink you have meat him in game? Well anyway, he messes up bad guys. Write me like on of your french girls. Had to say that.
Here we are. Got it done rather fast, hope it's alright. Just tell me if something is off and I'll edit it.
Inner Meaning
A short story for Anithola's character Rengar- Written by Rextoret.
The calls of gulls filled the air in Port Silver. The time was mid-day, with sparse gathering of people all around the docks. It was oddly calm, with only a few people departing in boats from the port. Rengar passed through the gates into the clearing in front of the Merry Mead, his metal boots clanking on the cobblestones of the road beneath. His appearance garnered a few passing eyes, although none were held for too long. Most didn’t usually see a member of the King’s Guard doing something other than protecting the King, although it was simple enough to assume the King had private duties.
This was, in fact, the actuality of the day for Rengar. The King had private affairs he needed to settle, and had dismissed a few of the King’s Guard to have the day off. And so here was Rengar, contemplating what he would do for the day. Things seemed quite enough, with no sign of anything off. Rengar’s eyes wandered to the Merry Mead, and his feet followed in suite. He pushed open the doors with gauntleted hands. His boots slapped against the wooden boards that made the floor. The faint scent of alcohol filled the air of the inn. It was remarkably empty, with only a few people sitting alone here and there.
Rengar walked up to the bar and rested his elbow against the counter. He strummed his gauntleted fingers upon the counter, getting the barkeepers attention. The man turned to face Rengar.
“Hey, what can I get you?” Rengar replied with a flat tone.
“Surprise me.” The barkeep turned back to and grabbed a mug, then proceeded to the taps. He filled it with some basic mead, before placing it in front of Rengar.
“That’ll be 3 radiants. Oh, wait- You’re… with the King’s Guard, aren’t you? It’s on the house.” Rengar wondered if the man had made the offer out of actual admiration or out of fear. It mattered little. Rengar dropped 3 radiants on the counter anyway and took his mug, headed toward the stairs. The barkeep opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Money was money. He dropped the radiants into his apron’s main pocket, before returning to his duties around the bar.
Rengar reached the top of the stairs and turned, progressing to a nearby table overlooking the clearing outside. He sat in the wooden seat, his eyes looking into the orange tint of his mead. His mind was wandering, digging up pieces of the past. His senses of what was around him dulled, as he entered a state of mental exploration. His hand idly traced the grooves in the wood of the table. His mind floundered in thoughts of the past, before settling into the memories of Eagles roost before the Bandit attack. He remembered the way the leaves swayed in the wind, the way the grass felt under his childhood feet, unburdened by the things he had lived to see in his current age. Rengar took a gulp of mead. He wondered why innocence was something everyone had to lose. He wondered what compelled Bandits to destroy such peace, what compelled men to do such evil things.
He wondered what the basis for evil was, what set the dual-bladed thing known as morality in place. Queen Grief? No, perhaps it was one of the neutral gods? He took another sip of mead and sighed, then turned his head to look out the window and was surprised to see it was already night time. His little thought session had lasted longer than he had expected. Rengar considered heading to a bed for the night, but something compelled him to take a midnight walk through the streets. Picking up his mug, he headed downstairs. Taking a final gulp of mead, he placed the mug in front of the barkeep. The barkeep nodded to Rengar as he walked out the door. Stepping out into the cold night air, Rengar took a deep relaxing breath in. Beginning his walk down the main road, parallel to the dock, he could hear the gentle lapping of the port’s water against the stone walls of the port. His mind was relaxed, even though the weight of his bastard sword weighed down upon his waist. But the sword’s weight was trivial now, nothing but a familiarity.
He passed by a section of alleys, something catching his ear. Stepping into the beginning of the alley, the sound became clearer. Sobbing? Picking up his pace, he jogged down the alley. The sobbing increased in volume, now accompanied by a sound similar to a dull thump. Breaking into a slow sprint, Rengar’s armor and sword clacked together, making a considerable amount of noise as he sped down the alley. He hung a sharp right, breaking into a grassy clearing snuggled between two walls. His eyes adapted to the dark, showing a sickening picture. A man in black garments was standing over a small woman, slamming his fists into her. A steel shortsword hung at his hip. Rengar rested his hand on the pommel of his bastard sword and called out.
“What in the nether are you doing!” The man stopped the beatings and slowly turned toward Rengar, a large sadistic grin spread across his pale face.
“Having a bit of fun. What’s it to you?” Rengar pulled his bastard sword out of it’s sheath, placing both his hands on the grip.
“Run, woman!” The bruised woman quickly scrambled up and rushed past Rengar, avoiding the grabs of the criminal. The criminal pulled out his shortsword with faked skill.
“You’ll pay for that.” He growled. Rengar tightened his grip on his sword.
“We can just take a calm trip down to the jail. No one has to die here.” The criminal took a stagger toward Rengar, his hands on the hilt of his shortsword.
“But that’s where you’re wrong, old man!” The man rushed, his shortsword held above his head. In an overly dramatic show, the criminal brought it down toward Rengar’s head. It was more than obvious that the man had never seen real combat. Rengar easily blocked the man’s blow with the side of his sword.
“Don’t get cocky!” The criminal leaped back, raising his sword in a defensive position.
The man obviously intended for Rengar to take the offensive. Rengar had no qualms with this. Moving quickly forward, Rengar brought the full brunt of his blow down toward the criminal’s sword. The man tried to block, but it was to no avail. The horrid construction of the man’s sword stood no chance against Rengar’s bastard sword. The weak, rusting metal of the blade shattered under the blow, sending shards into the air. The man was left with nothing but the hilt. Shivering in fear, the man dropped the hilt on the ground. He fell to his knees and bent his head, pleading to Rengar.
“Don’t kill me! Please!” Sighing heavily, Rengar slid his sword back into his scabbard. What a pitiful excuse for a criminal. Grabbing the man’s wrists and holding them behind his back, he lifted the man up. Crying, the criminal was sputtering nonsense. Sighing again, Rengar led him out of the alley. Starting down the night road, he led the criminal toward the city jail.
What a night.
) Exception to that rule is if you really want dat 18+, you can email me with the request and I'll write you something. (You'd better be over 18 yourself...)
Thanks!
