Another Riven fanfic, 10 pieces of cheese stuck with Riven lore and this is the outcome. All copyright to Riot Games Inc. There a several lines that were siphoned straight out of the league judgement and what not. Criticizing is welcome.
TL;DR: wtf r u doing here in the fanfic section anyhow>?
Riven exited her tent, assembled before her was Fury Company, the platoon under her command. As she strode forward in elegant strides she didn’t give a glance to anyone as she headed straight to the front of the gathered platoon. A younger soldier came out and addressed her with a salute.
“Everything’s set captain”
“Good” came the reply from Riven, as she trusted the solider, he was her second in command, Marx. Only younger by Riven by a year, Riven still had both the height, and power advantage over the youth. Though not known for his prowess in battle or his archery skills despite the bow on his back, he was a jack of all trade. More importantly to Riven he was skilled person in the world of paper work.
“Fury Company, move out!” she barked, and the entire unit moved in unison. The group was well trained, as Riven had taken it upon herself to run all the physical training sessions, to both hone the soldiers and to keep her authority well exercised. Whereas all the mundane chores of camp setup were gladly taken up by her second in command Marx, he was both a good friend and an amazing second in command to her. The two weren’t childhood friends by any stretch they only briefly met and were aware of the existence of the other. It wasn’t until both youths were of age to join the military did they meet in proper. Marx and Riven were put under the same training group, they would often spar each other during the practices that were run. Despite Marx wielding two swords, Riven’s prowess with her massive long sword easily took him down. Marx’s defeats were merciful, only leaving him with bruises as the weapons were rounded on the edge to the point that it was deadlier to attack with the flat of the blade than its edge, Noxus was knowledgeable enough to know that a soldier was only useful when he could reach to the battlefield first.
As the training continued Riven turned out on top for every combat lesson and sparing match, she had met no equal, though one might think the speed of smaller weapons would give others the edge, the sheer width of the long sword was enough to cover most of her body when in a defensive stance. On one particular day, Marx and Riven were paired as the group rotated to a new opponent for the next match. Riven was bored out of her mind, to her Marx was predictable, the easiest opponent she had ever faced. Though the hot sun on the particular day made her more careless than normal, as Marx setup into a charging stance, crouched slightly, and both sword hilts touching his hip, he charged. Not to be bothered, Riven merely lifted her sword off to her right and with and swung horizontally like a baseball bat, planning to smack the Marx with flat of her blade. As she swung the only sound she heard was “woosh”, rather than a thud, and the blade met no resistance as she swung, expecting the blade to come in contact with the boy. Bewildered, it wasn’t until she felt the touch of metal poking at her stomach did she notice. Looking down towards the ground, Marx was laid flat on his stomach, below swinging range and poking at her with his two blades grinning like a mad man.
“Gotcha”, the youth grinned. Infuriated Riven strode away from the session, to her it wasn’t a cheap win but she was furious about how she had been defeated by such a mediocre trick and swordsman. But this trick was only the first of many up Marx’s sleeve, from throwing his sword to outright sand flinging; Marx would always grab victory after long chains of defeats by the hands of Riven. Riven was still acknowledged as the best, but she was still ticked at the fact that cheap tricks were costing her matches. When the last month of the training rolled around, sparring matches were being conducted, but this time, the trainees were to pick their own fights and have a fixed amount of wins at the end of the day to receive dinner. As people ran amok challenging each other, Riven only had one person in mind to defeat for one final time. Marx. As she strode around and looked for the boy the time was ill spent. After she took down a youth in a match she learned that Marx had been transferred the week before, and that she would probably never get a match with the youth again.
By the time Riven became a solider the only action she got to taste were the last strands of the rune war and minor border disputes as Noxus tried to steal a few minor territories that did not belong to it. After this time a long lull of uneasy peace came after the establishment of the League of Legends. What this meant for Riven was that her usual work of fighting was gone and then what she was left with was the maintenance of a scouting outpost. During this time Riven was introduced with her new member for Fury Company, Marx. Knowing that melee conflicts were going to be small and far apart, Noxus was assigning “Rangers” to all outposts and platoons to allow for espionage work and ranged border assassinations. Marx had apparently been transferred for archery training and basic techmaturgy instead of continuing his soldier’s training. Marx ended up proving to be a valuable asset as he had an amazing edge for paper work and keeping it sorted and of course keeping Riven on top of the reports she had to organize for the Noxian high command. Generally speaking barely any action occurred during that time, even assassinations were few. That was until the Noxian invasion of Ionia came, in which Fury Company was pulled from the scouting outpost to join in with the fighting.
Here they were in the blistering sun, marching steadily. Their mission was to catch up with the 42cnd standard and help in replenishing numbers. Though Noxus expected Ionia to keel over in a single quick and decisive campaign, the losses were vast for both sides. Noxus had begun to dig deeper into its military resources, to the point that they hired Zaunites and their war machines to speed up the war effort despite the gross reputation they had grown over the years. As Fury Company dredged forward, the smell from the Melter’s acid vat bombs clung to the country side. It stung eyes and kept noses irritated, but something was off. Despite all the bodies that lay around, very few were rotting and even more there was no much stench reeking from the corpses. One might assume that the smell of acid was masking the smell of the bodies, but the smarter members of Fury Company became restless and cautious. Marx leaned in to Riven’s ear and whispered,
“Something’s wrong, the corpses seem too fresh, and almost none of them are burnt or rotting either….” Just as he finished the sentence, from the haze of acid surrounding the area, a girl burst forth, crying and bawling. Two soldiers headed forward, both hesitant, Fury Company was a group of trained fighters, not peace makers. Hoping that the other would take lead but before they could react a red mist appeared and both slumped to the ground.
“DEFENSIVE FORMATIONS!” Even as Riven yelled the order, the rearguard was overtaken almost immediately as the so called “corpses” rose up with deep hatred in their eyes charging at the Noxians. It was almost a one way slaughter, but years of training managed to keep half of the soldiers alive and well enough to bunch closer together. As the onslaught continued Riven immediately pulled from her belt a Zaunite flare and sent it upwards. It burst into a sickly green signalling for support at the target location. Pushing forward from the soldiers to take part in the combat, she cleanly sliced the first opponent in half, splattering his comrades, but as he fell two more came to replace him. Riven adopted a defensive stance, using the girth of her blade to deflect both blow simultaneously, but as she engaged the man on her left, the Ionian stretched out chains from his sleeves entangling her blade leaving her at the mercy of the second fighter. “THONK” an arrow materialized from the 2cnd opponent’s head, Riven jerked backwards, pulling her opponent towards her as he was busy staring at his dead partner. This loosened the chains on her weapon allowing her for another clean blow. As the fighting continued, explosions were heard, green balls exploded everywhere around Fury Company and the Ionians. The Melters had opened fire on the Ionians, but Riven and her platoon were caught in the cross fire. Noxus and Ionian alike fell, and screamed as the acid burned through any skin it contacted.
“Stop! Were still here!” Riven cried out in vain. Even as more vats fell, Marx was already in action, he pulled out techmaturgal explosive arrows, shooting at the falling bombs, but it was no use, even when detonated in mid-air the acid still came splashing down, but covering even a larger area. Riven was stunned, how could they? How could the high command allow this to happen? Why didn’t Noxus just crush Ionia without the help of the filthy Zaunites? This wasn’t combat, it was slaughter.
“Riven! Move!” she snapped back into reality as she looked overhead and one of the acid vats was going to land close by, dazed she had little time to run, but then someone collided with her, pushing her far from the explosion. Acid flew at random, luckily she wasn’t hit, but as she got up she could hear a painful grunt, a familiar one at that. Marx was on the floor nearby, clutching his leg as green acid licked greedily at his foot. Acting quickly Riven lifted Marx, and resting his arm across her shoulder, allowing hobbling with the help of Riven. As quickly as the acid vats fell, the firing soon stopped, and the two, Riven and Marx had exited the valley and were at the edge of a forest. As the two approached the forest Marx began to speak.
“You really didn’t need to do that, could of gotten yourself killed there Captain.”
“Well, who else is going to do the paper work if you gone hrm?”
“Well maybe I’ll quit doing paper work when we get back, what then?”
“I’ll deal with it then, but I’ll tell you now, I’ll personally beat you if you quit now.”
“Maybe I won’t quit then, I guess you do need me to bail you out of missing reports now don’t you?”
It had been many an occasions as Riven handed in her package of scouting reports from the outpost that she would forget one. But every time, Marx was ahead and would wait after the commander at the desk to questions her about the report would he come in, formally bow to Riven but then grin as she pulled the report from his hands in chagrin. It was a brief memory but it made Riven grin a little even as they escape the whining of the acid vats raining down upon the fields behind them. As the sound began to quiet down they reached the edge of a forest.
“Can we rest for a bit? This seems like a good place to rest” Marx winced as Riven set her down next to a tree.
“I’ll go get some water for that ok? Stay put” Riven told Marx, as she head off to the sound of running water. Quickly reaching her destination to what turned out to be a waterfall. Taking her drinking flasks she quickly filled them. As she bent forward and leaning to fill the flask her runic sword slipped off of her back from its simple leather strap that kept it in place. Noxus. It was the place she had fought for her entire life, in her mind it was the place where all that mattered was power. A society where the merit of one’s strength was truly recognized despite gender, race or age, a place where only the strong survived, but after this encounter, she saw more. The fact that Noxus wanted to be affiliated with Zaun wasn’t just for convenience, Noxus was just as bad as Zaun, what lie under the mask of Noxus was just once again a society that manipulated people and the lives of people were only used as tools. She had been fighting for a lie. It was like the runic inscriptions laughed at her, laughing at her failure to realize the true Noxus. Though she wasn’t sure what she wanted to fight for now, one thing was for sure, she wasn’t fighting for Noxus anymore. With a single arch, she smashed the blade against the rocks of the waterfall. The blade shattered with a pristine sound as the water brought the pieces to shore. It felt like the water helped her, helped her wash the blade, she wanted to keep the pieces, maybe one day she would reforge it, the day when she found something else to fight for, something that was true to her.
As she was lost deep in thought, the sound of an explosion awakened her. Not an explosion of one of the Melter vats, but of a hextech grenade. Riven swivelled around just in time to block a strike from an Ionian. Though her sword broken, she still easily dispatched of the intruder, she rushed back to where she dropped of Marx, he was the only person she knew that had such a grenade. As she reached the clearing she saw 3 corpses lying burnt to a crisp, walking out further she saw Marx. He was standing in a defensive stance, both blades drawn with all his weight on his back leg as his front foot was still intact, but he winced every time it hovered too close to the ground. In front of him was a woman, she was her full red regalia the weapon she wielded was most unique. It consisted of four oddly shaped blades held together by a central red ball, he “blade” itself if it could so be called wasn’t even being held, it merely floated there. Upon seeing Riven the women conjured four ethereal blades, throwing all four one at a time at Marx. Though it happened in rapid succession to Riven it seemed like time slowed to a crawl. Marx parried the first one, disarming his first sword; the second one came in and knocked him off balance as he once again managed to stop it. The third one completely disarmed him as he fell to the ground. As the fourth one flew towards him, Riven charged, she held her own blade in front of herself, hoping to use her blade parry the ethereal weapon. Riven dived, but it was not use, her broken blade, the one she shattered in hopes of becoming a new person fell short of protecting his heart. The ethereal weapon whizzed past Riven’s sword, and with a disgusting sound plunging itself into its target. A drum played loudly in the background, Marx’s adversary retreated immediately, leaving Riven slumped, disappointed and shattered. As the ethereal weapon dissolved, it left a gaping wound in the left side of Marx’s chest.
As it pulsed out blood Riven gripped his hand, but Riven didn’t cry, she was too confused, confused at what she had done to have deserved her to be uselessness in the most crucial time to save a friend. As Marx tried to cough out some words, but Riven stopped him.
“Listen, hey, listen, I’m a freak of nature.” This only served to make Riven grow more muddled, with a few words Marx explained that he had been born with his heart on his right side of his body, leading to his physical problems, small stature and physical unfitness. Not taking the time to digest the words, Riven immediately treated the wound, thankfully with the blade dissolving the wound clotted normally and the remaining water she had in her flasks she used to clean off the acid. She dare not touch the foot as Marx was already in pain enough as it was evidenced by his grunts and pained expression. The next leg of their journey would be difficult, the two of them continued forward, though with not particular direction in mind they hoped to find a settlement that would help treat Marx’s wounds.
After several days of trekking left both partners weary, but it was taking its toll upon Marx, though his wound didn’t get infected it left him weak and he soon became feverish, this only attributed to a slower pace as he needed more frequent rests. Thankfully on the third day of their slow trek forward they were in sight of a monastery. Cleary Ionian the two of them approached anyways. Upon reaching the doorway of the monastery they were greeted by a monk. Even as the door opened the monk was set in a defensive stance of a trained fighter. Muscles rippling to the point that the ropes wrapped around his lower forearms creaked as they were stretched at their limit. But the monk’s face was shrouded in a two layer red shawl the second layer almost completely covering his eyes.
“What brings you here? Noxian…” Though laden with hate and malice the monk kept his composure, unchanging in his stance and ready to engage the enemies at the door if need be. Without speaking Riven merely took her captain’s insignia perched on her uniform and threw it to the ground, and crushed it with her heel. Despite being disciplined this action shocked the monk, he quickly lowered his stance seeing that the two came for aid and not for war.
“I see, if that is the case, we of the Shojin monastery will not turn away a person in need.” The monk replied as he led Riven and Marx into the monastery. Almost as if by psychic powers there was already a room prepared for Marx. But moans of the injured could be heard in adjacent rooms. Clearly the monks of the monastery, though passive, were still aiding in the war effort as clerics and healers of the wounded. With Marx left in the care of the Shojin monks, Riven stepped out, she lowered herself to the ground in a sitting positions facing the door, tired and exhausted she began to drift away and her eyelids fell. The monk was observant, he saw the eyes Riven had and knew she was confused, he left but gave a parting word of wisdom despite knowing that she was asleep.
“Strike firmly, and act free of doubt.” Were the parting words of the red shawled monk as he left Riven there dozing. She awoke to a scream of pain from the “surgical” room. Breaking from her snooze the locked door only fed her discomfort as she paced back and forth in front of the door. After what felt like an excruciating hour the door creaked open. Marx hobbled out, he was bandaged heavily on his stab wound but his left foot had been replaced. The polished wood shined in the fading sunlight of the evening, it creaked as he stepped on it.
“Yarrr…. I’m a pirate.” The statement was as weak as his smile. Despite the joke all he was greeted by from Riven was a worried look, staring intently on his foot.
“Riven, don’t look at me like that okay? Your making me feel like a freak..”
“Sorry” Was all Riven could mutter before she turned her head away in shame. For some reason she felt responsible. That there were so many things she could have done to bring her friend in at least one piece. Marx hobbled over and put a hand on Riven, startling her.
“It’s not your fault, don’t worry about it okay? I gave my best for you and you gave your best for me and I’m grateful. So don’t worry, I can still make something of myself.” The words didn’t reassure Riven much, but it made her less guilty, but not much.
Clearly tired and worn neither were much in the mood for more talk. Riven was shown to a small room with a woven mat on the ground and Marx was kept within the medical ward in case of complications. The quarters they slept in would become much more permanent then they had hoped. Being outcasts from the Noxian army neither of them had a place to stay, but the monastery was kind enough to provide a place to stay provided that they did their share. For several months they took on manual tasks, gathering fire wood, and generally being utilized as fetchers. Bits of news would reach their ears every so often, so they were aware of the Noxian occupation of Ionia and how the first match was lost. After the victory of the second match there was an urgent guest that arrived. Both Marx and Riven left their chores at the time to gather around to see what was occurring, they only saw a form of a man being quickly whisked away to the medical ward. Their only clue to what was occurring was the smell of charred meat. A few weeks later the person that was brought in finally came out. The man was the monk that had greeted the duo at the door for the first time; he was now wearing his hair in a single braid, and had a double cross headband over his eyes. Soon after his recovery the monk approached Riven.
“You two do not belong here, I shall bring you with me to my journey to the League of Legends, and you too should join them. You are a strong warrior, you will easily enter. I can see it that both of you are restless and do not feel comfortable here.” Riven was puzzled, though it was clearly neither she nor Marx fit in with the monastery monks as they still retained most of their old clothing. She barely knew the monk but the monk for some reason knew so much of them, both of them indeed wanted to leave the monastery. Any requests for more information the monk would not oblige to, only requesting to have her bring her friend and to be ready to set out by dawn. On their trek though Marx and Riven bombarded the monk with questions all they received in return was general information of the League, and cryptic answers that only led to more questions. The travels were slow as the monk took his time, savouring certain natural formations, or allowing for work to be done receiving enough coin to get aboard a ride. As quick as they arrived the monk intended to leave them in a village near the League, parting ways without a care.
“Wait! What are we supposed to do now?” Riven halted the monk.
“Your convictions are strong, but you are still confused, help your friend settle and join the League, there you will find the answers you seek. There you will fight and master yourself, and then know what you truly seek.” With the cryptic answer the monk left. Luckily the odd jobs along the way allowed for Marx and Riven to buy a small abandoned blacksmith within the village outskirts. With a plan in mind Marx was ready, though he could not fight anymore he was confident that he could craft. After Riven inquired about the League and managed to catch its attention, there of course was paper work involved. As Marx scribbled away he looked up at her.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, you have your own things to do. I plan to make something of my life, this shop will work out, trust me. Also I’ve already finished my first project.” From behind the forge he lifted out a long sword, an exact replica of her former rune blade Riven used, but only it was blank. It had no runes, no green inscriptions to remind her of Noxus, it was a blank slate.
“You don’t need to take it now, but when you ready, this will be here waiting for you.” Marx hobbled off to do other work, leaving Riven with the company of only her own thoughts. One day, maybe one day she would be able to come back and take this sword. But it would only be when she had found her true goal, to find what she was truly fighting for. She gripped the fresh long sword, feeling the familiar weight of it, tracing its smooth edges.
“What is broken can be reforged.”