Ozzy walked through the filthy back alleys of Zaun, his boots squelching upon the slick filth and polluted grim of the slums with each stride. His leather trench coat trailing out behind him as he moved towards his destination. Past the shimmer addicts he moved, keeping a gloved hand upon the handle of his revolver should one of the unpredictable side-effects cause one of the junkies to attempt and attack him.
His dark blue eyes were dark and drawn, to many sleep-less nights lately, he was being hunted by band of mercenaries hired by one of the people he had dueled and bested in Bilgewater. Most people would simply kill someone with a single bullet to the head. Ozzy thought differently, he never killed those he bested, and this particular loser had taken great offense to that... Took it as a sign Ozzy didn't believe him worth killing. And now look at the situation...
Ozzy was forced to flee to Zaun in an attempt to hide, his days were surely numbered. The pirate he had bested had hired one of the more savage merc bands, even now as Ozzy moved through the slums, he knew he was being followed... He felt the hounds of hell upon his heels, gnashing and snarling, yet running would draw far to much attention.
He grimaces, all he had to do was get out of Zaun, buy passage elsewhere, Piltover maybe? He could hide there, throw them off his scent for a while. He found himself nearing the end of the slums, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder to make sur--
...Crap. A man following him stops abruptly when Ozzy's gaze falls upon him. Their eyes meet, Ozzy's dark blue sleepless eyes with the mercs cold almost grey piercing stare. Ozzy takes off, his feet barely seem to touch the ground as his muscles pump his legs into action, flying across the pavement with almost catlike grace. He hears the crackle of the radio... no... The merc was calling in the others. It would be like a hornets nest soon.
Ozzy skids around the corner, his eyes set dead ahead, he was slowly nearing the outskirts, he could hear the others that had joined the chase already, Ozzy dodges and weaves though the citizens of Zaun losing all sense of direction, his chest was burning as he inhaled the polluted air of Zaun desperately forcing himself onward, he wouldn't be killed by mere mercenaries. It was no way for him to die. He was better than this... Looking ahead he sees a corner, he throws a glance over his shoulder before rounding it.
Before he could react or even register what happened, he feels the impact of something slamming into his left shoulder causing him to hit the ground hard... He feels warmth spread from his shoulder, searing agony punched down through to the bone. He struggles to get up, blinding pain shoots out across his body. Looking down the ally he sees someone standing before him, smoking gun in his hand, the barrel pointed at Ozzy's useless form. A single word sounds, "Stand."
One of the larger mercenaries grips him and hauls Ozzy to his feet causing a groan of pain to escape his lips. Ozzy tries to steady himself, he vaguely hears the disconnected voice of the man who had just shoot him. Barely registering what was happening, "You will draw your weapon... We will duel. You will die. Just like it was meant to be the first time."
Ozzy takes in a deep breath his hand gripping the handle of his gun, his vision was blurred, he felt light headed due to the blood loss. He frowns... It seemed this is where he would die. In the outskirts of Zaun... Never to be remembered for anything. His body would be stripped by the homeless. The law would assume he was some lowlife, which he was when it came down to it...
If he died, he's taking the son of a bitch who killed him as well.
Quicker than a flash of light, his un-wounded arm snaps up, his finger already squeezing the trigger, the revolver bucks in his hand, he sees the targets blurry body drop... He smiles and drops... His eyes never leaving the man he just killed.
Ozzy wasn't close to death yet, it was just a shoulder wound after all. But the blood loss was certainly going to kill him if it didn't stop. The mercenaries that had cornered him, chased him down like an animal were simply standing, one letting out a chuckle... Ozzy was confused, why was the man laughing? Sick satisfaction from watching two men kill each other? He frowns... had he killed the other man? Or was it simply a flesh wound?...
From the other side of the alley the crumpled form of the man raised from the dead. His eyes glowing in the dark of the alley, his voice was strained, "What you fail to see... Ozzy..." Ozzy's eyes shift to something glowing in the mans chest... Almost as if it was burning, "I came prepared..."
Ozzy stares on, speechless, he had hit the man. He saw his body fall... didn't he? The man speaks one more, gloating. "I knew you would beat me in a fair duel... So... I cheated. Bullet proof plating across my torso arms... It really hurts."
He chuckles, stepping closer to Ozzy, the man gun drawn up and now pointed at Ozzy's chest as he lay upon the ground, "But... I'll tell them I beat you fair and square...."
Ozzy stares up into the barrel of the revolver that was now pointed at him, "No one will believe you..."
The man laughs, it echoes about the alley. "Who will tell them what really happened, you? What was it you always say when someone asks why you don't kill him? I think the principle applies here too. Dead men tell no tales." He fires.
The bullet rips through Ozzy's chest, a spray of crimson erupts from his chest as his skin is broken, flesh punctured and rib shattered by the bullet and it tears through his human form, it obliterates his spinal cord before finally coming to a stop in the concrete.
Ozzy was now alone... His life fading quickly, the mercenaries and the man had left him to die. He would die alone in a back alley of Zaun. He had no name. No family to mourn him. No woman to love him.... He was paralyzed, unable to even attempt to crawl for help. This is how he would die. Alone, broken, helpless.
The outskirts of Zaun were no less dangerous than the more populated heart of the city-state, by any token, but at the very least they were rather less inhabited. Anywhere one walked they would find the homeless, desperately attempting to find and maintain some sort of shelter, as well as decrepit and less than well maintained buildings. Storage facilities were ever present in this area, both large warehouses and even some more miniscule storage units. Placed so far from the majority of the residents of Zaun, these facilities were even used for more illicit scientific and magical experimentation, some converted into either temporary or permanent laboratories for some of the more disturbing or reclusive scientists.
It would come as no surprise, then, that one of these very facilities was the very facility in which the Machine Herald himself spent most of his time, when not involved in League affairs. Suffice it to say, Viktor was one of the most reclusive and anti-social individuals one could ever hear of in Zaun, though his status had changed since his induction into the League. He had gained a certain notoriety, as everyone grew substantially curious about the self-proclaimed Herald of all things Hextech. Viktor, for his own part, preferred to keep to himself and stay within the recesses of his laboratory, despite its damage from his battle with the Defender of Tomorrow. Though even a recluse like himself was unable to avoid interaction with his peers in this twisted society of Zaun, as materials required him to make the occasional pilgrimage into the more industrial and mercantile parts of his city.
This Champion representing Zaun was on one of these excursions, on his way back with a rather sizable cart full of materials he'd acquired, this very night. It was not by his own will or intent that he happened to be taking the route that would bring him close to a certain fallen gunman, but it made no difference as fate seemed to have designed for the precise purpose of the two meeting at this very time. Viktor's work was never done, and a great deal of effort was still required of him, despite his own augmentations, to make his way back to his mechanical sanctum. The repugnant air of Zaun was no longer an issue to the man who had supplanted a great deal of his former anatomy with unfettered techmaturgical devices, and his mask aided in preventing him from falling ill to the effects of he variety of chemicals and toxins that intermingle around the very heads of the people of Zaun, although most of the natives had already grown used to and somewhat immune to these negative effects.
Viktor's lenses enabled his eyes to take note of a very masculine figure sprawled out on the ground some ways in front of him, slightly to the side. The man was bleeding out, from what he could tell, and his chest was heaving heavily. The man was not moving, his body seemed paralyze otherwise, and indeed his vitals were rather low level by the sensors built into the Herald's mask. To this very day, Viktor still didn't know what possessed him to go out of his way for the sake of another. But if you were to ask him if he regretted it, the very stern and genuine answer would be absolutely not. Stopping just a few feet short of the dying man, the Machine Herald left his cart momentarily to make his way over, bending his knees to crouch down near the gunman's side. His expression, if he bore any, would never be seen due to the callous mask that he wore. His voice, however, hinted at some minor degree of pity.
"What a shame. It is always a disappointment to see the loss of possibility, brought about by the human refusal to accept and adapt to the new devices that it creates." The Herald's golden lenses, through which his eyes stared down at this man, generated a dim light which was cast down to the man's face. As he analyzed the gunman, Viktor's head inclined slightly rightward, giving him the impression of bearing a certain amount of curiosity at this man's predicament. His next words cleared any speculation to be had of his impression of this situation. "No matter. People die every day, and my evolution continues without delay." With that said, the Champion rose to a standing position and turned back to his supplies, intent on resuming his expedition....
upon the ground, Ozzy's eyes fluttered open as he hears a strange monotone voice talking, his eyes try to adjust to look at whatever it was... He sees a strange golden orb in the place of an eye... What was this thing? Was it here to finish him? Torture him?
Perhaps this was the afterlife... Something had come to claim him, carry him away towards the afterlife even? No... It begins moving away...
He blood catches in his throat as he tries to call after it, what ever It was. He swallows, his voice weak, "D-..Don't l-leave..." He coughs once more, "... Me... "
"Hmm?" Viktor paused as he reached his cart, ready to begin pushing it back to his laboratory, when he heard the weak voice call out to him. He turned back to the man who lay dying, his own blood pooling beneath him. Although no expression was shown upon the mask he wore, his next statement belied his surprise. "Ah, so you are not quite dead as of yet? Perhaps your will to live deserves some credit...."
After musing at the stranger's ability to speak through his agony, Viktor turned back and slowly made his way back to the fallen gunman. "However, for what reason should I grant you anymore of my valuable time than I've already so generously spared? Surely you do not expect me to help you out of the kindness of my heart? Do you not know where you are, nor who you are speaking to? What incentive do I possess to not simply leave you to die by your own machinations?" His voice, though artificially augmented by the object covering his face, was devoid of any interest and came off as utterly cold.
Ozzy lets out a shuddered breath, now so close to death he could almost feel it's cold embrace enveloping his useless body. He was about to dance with death one final time it seemed... Then he would be taken away towards the afterlife... No! Ozzy grits his teeth his neck straining, the tendons standing out upon his neck like cabels, as he forces his head to turn to look at Viktor, Ozzy didn't know who this man was who stood before, emotionless robotic voice sounding so blunt and brutal it made Ozzy want to yell.
"I... I will... F-.." He coughs out a large stream of blood, it lands upon the previous spilt crimson liquid with a wet lapping sound, his eyes growing wild, desperate as he fought to cling onto his rapid fading life, "Aid you... A-any way.. I can... For the... r-rest of... my life..."
Viktor brought his right hand up to nest under the maw of his mask, a gesture that belied his moment of wonder as he stared down at the dying man. What he thought, or what he pondered, was a mystery whose answer was known only to him. However, it was only a brief reprise before the Herald had come to a decision. "Very well. If your will to live is so critical, then I presume you will have no reservations about being augmented."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Viktor would bestow superior devices unto this man's form, to improve him and make him better than he was before. In return, the stranger would show his gratitude by joining Viktor's cause - the Glorious Evolution would be one step closer to fruition, as yet another individual having experienced just a taste of it would speak of its greatness. Without saying another word, Viktor hurried to his cart and brought it next to the man, at which point he raised the fallen gunman and set him in the open space not occupied by the materials within.
From there, it was a simple walk of about 10 minutes to return to Viktor's laboratory. Fortunately, the gunman had fallen relatively close to the Machine Herald's mechanical sanctum, a mere few blocks short of it in fact. Nevertheless, time was imperative. Viktor wasted almost no time, as soon as he had returned to his lab he brought the man to an area of the lab where there was a makeshift operating table with curtains surrounding it for privacy. Viktor immediately set to work, with the materials nearby. It was a simple matter of reinforcing the man's damaged spinal cord, replacing the broken rib, he even used the beam from his semi-autonomous hand to cauterize the entry and exit points of the bullet. In addition, having noticed the man's choice of weapons, the Herald even went so far as to devise an additional set of arms, mechanical ones, which he installed as part of a small rig attached to the man's back (connected to his spine). Even further augmentation included an augment set behind the man's eyes, which would discolor the irises but enable him to aim with 175% efficiency.
The entire process had taken a little over an hour, between an hour and an hour-and-a-half, but the Machine Herald had definitely saved this man's life. With this out of the way, and while the man rested to regain consciousness, Viktor then decided to begin work on a new set of firearms for his soon-to-be acolyte. Four modified Hextech Revolvers, each one capable of storing static energy which could then be transferred into the chamber to empower the ammunition that would be used. The ammunition, rather than bullets, took the form of special pellets, designed to be able to contain this energy. These weapons, and their accompanying ammunition, were completely cost-efficient as they spared minimal materials while being fairly easy to repair/rebuild.
"This will have to do." Viktor spoke to no one in particular, as he waited for his first acolyte in some time to awaken.
Ozzy wakes up upon the lab table his body convulsing violently as his brain attempts to register what had just happened. One moment, it was preparing to shut down it blacks out... The next it is seeing things in a whole new way. Ozzy tries looking around without moving his head to much, aching pain rockets through his skull. He also found things to be in much better detail... Wait... something wasn't right... He focuses upon a piece of equipment nearby... Suddenly it seemed almost a mere inch away from his face, he tries reaching out his hand not understanding what was happening. Something moves upon the table... Ozzy's eyes open wide with surprise, the lens retracting causing his vision to go back to normal, a mechanical arm was now laying beside him.
He pushes himself off the table, the mechanical arms coming with him, what the hell was going on, he lets out a cry of surprise, "What the bloody hell is going on here?!"
If Viktor was surprised at the cry of surprise let out by the stranger he'd just augmented, he neither showed it upon his masked visage nor alluded to it with his body language. He merely leaned back against a work station not too far across from Ozzy's current location, the Machine Herald clearly within visible range of the gunslinger with his artificial arms folded across his chest. The mechanical arm mounted to his shoulder pauldron bobbed gently as it stood by, idle and not needed for either work or combat, its small palm glowing gently with an orange-red form of unknown energy.
"I brought you back from the brink with my superior designs, is what is going on here." Viktor's voice, cold and monotonous, resounded loud enough to echo through the otherwise sparse laboratory, his gold-tinted lenses of his mask gleaming dimly and giving him a rather ominous appearance in the less-than-well lit area of the facility, until reaching the vagrant's still human ears. "And as crudely stated as that last assertion was, it is a fact. You were nearly dead, and in your desperation asked someone you neither knew nor trusted to assist you. This is my laboratory, on the outskirts of Zaun where few dare to tread. And you may recognize me as the Machine Herald, whose glorious devices have been showcased on League matches time and time again..."
Ozzy narrows his eyes in disbelief, "THE Herald? The champion?" His eye zooms in on Viktor, Ozzy tenses before forcing it to relax, his lens returns to normal zoom. He frowns, testing his muscles, they ached slightly, his back seemed... Odd, stronger even. He looks under his human arms at the now limp mechanical ones, "You saved me?" His memory slowly trickles back, the bullet slamming through him and shattering his spine. He didn't feel much pain as he lay dying due to the face his spine had been obliterated. He then remembers the golden eye examining him, the figure walking away and then Ozzy's own voice asking, no, begging to be saved. "So... I'm in service to you then... Is that right?"
Viktor was mildly pleased to hear that his reputation preceded him, as the man before him knew him all too well. A simple nod of affirmation was the only gesture needed in response to that part. Another nod was the gunslinger's answer regarding his second direct question, as Viktor felt no need to speak yet. Everything that needed to be said was already said save for one piece of trivia.....until it was brought up by the man himself, the four armed augmented vagrant who had pleaded for his life to the great Machine Herald.
"Whether or not you are in service to me.....is completely your choice. I can not decide your future for you, as that is something only you are in command of. However, I can guarantee you a place amongst only the best and most proficient when the era of techmaturgical superiority comes. At the very least, you are all too indebted to me for prolonging your otherwise meaningless existence. And should you run off to your own devices I can not promise you any repairs to any possible damage you may sustain from henceforth..." Viktor spoke firmly and objectively, as while he showed he was indifferent to this man's ambitions he simultaneously emphasized a total refusal to offer his services to the man should he come to harm in the future.
The Machine Herald paused in his speech as he shifted his form, no longer leaning against the work station behind and instead standing to his full height. His two arms slowly lowered and fell to his sides as he leveled an intent golden gaze upon the one before him. "The Glorious Evolution is a grand transcendence from the weak and fragile flesh, and bone, that all beings are inherently born with. Those who follow it are driven to improve upon themselves, to embrace evolution such that they open their minds to progress and techmaturgical augmentation. Although I will not force you to join me, and the Glorious Evolution, I can assure you that you will never need to fear dying as you almost did. Submitting yourself to this cause will not deter you from any goal you have currently set, and would in fact only serve to enhance your capacity to fulfill it. You will not receive any undue treatment from me in any way, I will neither look down upon you for your choices and actions, nor will you be expected to act in any manner that would violate any code you may currently follow...."
At the apex of his speech, Viktor raised his right arm slowly until fully extending palm up towards the man before him. "You will be my acolyte.....You will be like a brother to me.....You will be an equal....You will be unique.....You will be stronger, better, faster, more responsive than you ever dreamed of. All I expect of you is to treat me with the same respect I intend to give you, as a fellow seeker of self-improvement, and to speak well of what the Glorious Evolution has given you thus far! You are no longer the man you once were, my friend, you are now superior to that man, a man who has welcomed technology into your life and being! I am a man of my word, as I would never mislead nor lie to those who are like me, so ask yourself: what would you lose by entrusting your fate to a kindred spirit...?"
Although he would never admit it, at this very moment the usually aloof and distant front that Viktor strove to maintain was overwritten with an uncharacteristic sincerity and passion. His tone had softened and lost his coldness as he saw more and more of his former self in the man he'd rescued and outfitted with hextech devices. This was a side of him that few could ever claim to have ever witnessed, but it was one that he had shown every single acolyte who had joined him in the past. The Herald despised deception and fraud in every grotesque from, as he vowed never to become like the man who had ruined his life many years ago....
Ozzy simply listens to Viktor's speech, a small smirk forming upon his face as Viktor continues speaking. He doesn't interrupt, his eyes stay trained upon the Herald. Ozzy's mind had been made up already nothing would change it, when Viktor finishes speaking he simply waves a dismissive hand, "Viktor. You saved my life. You made me..." His robotic arms, move into action, each robot hand making fists, "Stronger. At the point of saving my life, you gained an ally." The arms relax and go limp as he still wasn't used to them yet, "Until I am not longer able to move, I will aid you."
Ozzy smiles and walks towards Viktor holding out his right human hand, his eye glowing a slight yellow due to the augmentation, "Partner?"
The turn of events couldn't have gone any better than they were, as Viktor smiled from behind his mask. It was a subconscious action, one that he hadn't done in quite some time. Although his new acolyte wouldn't see it, he would know all too well the face of the man he'd just sworn an alliance with. Without saying a single word, the Machine Herald took his new partners hand in his own and gave a single, firm shake. This was an irrefutable gesture of their comradery, and from henceforth they would be equal individuals seeking to to remove their former weakness.
"You will not rue this day, my friend. From this moment on, you are one of my own. I will support you in any endeavor you wish to take, as long as you do likewise." Viktor's voice belied his content with the turn of events, and as he retracted his arm he brought it up to make contact with the surface of his metal mask. "In addition, I will grant you an honor that only those whom have chosen to walk the path of the Glorious Evolution with me are allowed...." Viktor then did the unthinkable, as he pulled the molded steel face away to reveal the true visage that lied beyond it - the once young, healthy face of the techmaturgical prodigy had seen augmentation the same as the rest of his body as part of his jaw had been replaced with a metallic maw and his once organic eyes had been supplanted with hextech optics. Though, what flesh remained bore the semblance of a man who had given somewhat to age and malnutrition.
"This is my face now. It is no longer the face of the man that I once was, it is now the face of one who seeks the glory of hextech augmentation. Everything I once believed in, having been crushed into oblivion, gave way to a pioneer striving to bring Valoran into an era of technological supremacy. I do not define myself by my appearance, neither my face nor my form, but by my actions. Everything I do, I do in the name of the Glorious Evolution - for techmaturgical advancement. I wear the mask as a symbol - it is a representation of my conviction, my drive to expand my physical capabilities through mechanical implantation, and of my refusal to be judged based upon superficial bias. If we are to act in tandem to show the world what the Glorious Evolution promises, then you deserve to know just how far I have gone in order to prove my words. I believe, in this way, you can understand my intentions and can place your trust in me just as I can do for you. In this way, without any concealment on either of our parts, shall we seal this partnership - all that remains is to tell me your name."
Ozzy's face doesn't even twitch as Viktor reveals his face, he had seen worse in Bilgewater and learnt quickly not to show reactions to such disfigurements. It didn't stop him from cringing on the inside though, it was something he wasn't expecting Viktor to show to someone he had just met.
Ozzy smirks at Viktor, "You raise a man from the deaths door, augment him to become greater than what he was before that... And you don't even know his name, or anything about him." Ozzy chuckles, "Name's Ozzy, never had a last name."
Viktor's scarred expression slowly morphed to one of amusement and humor in response to the man's remark. "As I told you before, a name on its own is rather meaningless when attempting to come to know and understand someone. Actions are all that are necessary to define the self - not words or even ideas." The smirk on Viktor's face was so far and away from what everyone expected of him, Ozzy wouldn't be faulted for being either extremely disturbed or completely surprised.
"Ozzy." Viktor repeated his recently proclaimed brother's name with a firm nod, as if committing it to memory, before he placed his mask back upon his face to hide it away from the world around him. He then folded his arms across his chest as he shifted his body to the side, giving his new acolyte vision of what he had just finished working on - the four hextech revolvers custom-made for Ozzy's personal use. "You'll find that I treat my brothers and fellow seekers of improvement with the utmost respect and kindness, such that anything you want I can give you if it is within my power. You should find this wonderful quartet of great use."
Ozzy's eyes widened as he looked upon the revolvers, they were beautiful. True perfection in his eyes, he reached for one, grasping it gently as though it were a child. He weighed it in his hand, an eye moving to Viktor, "...Mine?" He returns his gaze to the revolver, reaching for another and holding them outstretched as though aiming at an enemy. "Viktor, they are bloody amazing... What would you have me do?"
Welcome to Maelstrom, Original Characters, Summoners and Champions alike. We are a divergent setting roleplay forum for the ever-popular MOBA by Riot, League of Legends. This means we are based in Riot canon, but your characters' actions can have a real, lasting impact on the world. Together, the Maelstrom community endeavors to bring the League of Legends setting and characters to life through collaborative storytelling and meaningful development. We welcome you along for the ride.
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hello new skin yes. gonna work out some kinks but let me know what you guys think. it's not all that flashy but i didn't really like the tabs so the side bar is back. oh and the cbox has also made it's appearance. -rurin.
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