User talk:Lady Howl

Heya,

This is a bit of the random story you told me to write :)

Taking a sip from her cup of tea, Kat leaned back in her chair and heaved a sigh.

No matter how many times has she and everyone else gone through the same routine in the Fields of Justice, nothing ever changed. Nothing new was discovered and no conflicts were resolved. Wasn't the League established as a means of resolving any conflict without unnecessary bloodshed?

"Hah" She couldn't help but let out a curt laugh. They got part of it right - there was no bloodshed. Well, actually, plenty of it, but at the end of the day, it was like none of it ever happened. Similarly, there were no solutions. Was this really for the sake for the realm, or was there somebody somewhere, lurking in the shadows, reaping a steady profit from their everyday blood and sweat? Driving her free hand across her body, Katarina couldn't help but fell really, really weary, like all the wounds from all the battles had finally started to add up. Like she was getting old while still being in her twenties

"What the hell is that" She whispered quietly, her eyes trailing off somewhere.

At least in real battles, death was followed by result, thus making it a sacrifice, not a vain show of one man's cruelty to another. Personally, she found no fun in massacring defenseless supports like Sona or Soraka, but it was never her will - it was a merciless point-and-click coming from above, which she had to follow with the clang of her equally merciless blades. How about the pained pre-death words of one of her sworn enemies, Jarvan IV? I... must... not... fail... What were these words meant for? His people? The summoner? Himself? Demacia? What was it that made him move forward? She couldn't bear these thoughts storming down upon her, so unfit for an assassin such as herself. The League has made everything complicated. Politics brought into warfare, staining the pure flow of blood with a dirty, yet invisible color.

Then, as if snapping back to reality, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She didn't need to turn around to confirm who it was - the unsteady, irregular pattern could only belong to one man - Jericho Swain, the Grand General of Noxus, the embodiment of everything her home city-state stood for.

(Feirund (talk) 19:58, July 3, 2013 (UTC)Feirund)