Previous Update: Piltover Rallies
by CupcakeTrap (lore consult by Trismegistre)
“A trickster illusionist in heels and a little girl with a stuffed bear. But what could I possibly add to such an impressive circle of sorcerers.”
Morgana slid a batch of cupcakes into the oven. It sounded like something had just started to scream when she shut the metal door.
She paused there a moment, with her back still turned to Katarina. “Do you come seeking charity? Or can you afford my fee even after you’ve bought dear Annie all the candies and chocolates she can eat?”
She looked back at Katarina over the crest of her leathery wings, then turned and stepped up to the counter between them. She inclined her head expectantly.
Katarina scowled. “It’s at least ten times more than usual. That’s all the flattery you’ll get from me, witch.” She slapped the contract on the counter and pushed it forward with a whisper of thick parchment. “And I think it’ll be enough.”
Morgana’s cold laughter sharpened to a sneer. “Don’t pretend this is a routine engagement. Your masters want the mirrorwater, don’t they.” Light danced over her eyes as she searched the Noxian’s face for hints of reaction: pride, pain, impulse, anger, restraint. “They want it so badly. They’re so afraid Demacia will get it instead.” She clicked her tongue. “Look at you. Pouty little mortals bickering over a shiny puddle. As though you had any idea what it was.”
Katarina entertained Morgana’s teasing implication for only a moment. Did this sneering demon know something about the mirrorwater? Was she bluffing? Or simply toying with her? She leaned forward. “The offer is already too generous by far. Begging for more only makes you seem desperate. And wastes my time—to your increasingly great disadvantage.”
Morgana ran her fingertip down the page, pausing at the High Command’s seal, stamped in crimson. “Such a lashing you’ll get if you scamper back empty-handed. And perhaps they’d have a prayer with me on your side. ‘At least ten times more than usual.’ Ha! Do not press your luck, girl.“
Morgana meticulously examined the terms as Katarina waited in unreadable silence. Katarina noticed her pause on one line in particular, near the middle of the page; her eyes then flicked up, to an earlier section, then to a part near the end, seemingly stringing together a chain of clauses that in the end pleased her. The fallen angel’s purple lips curved into a wicked grin.
“Yes.” Morgana waved a hand, and her signature materialized on the page. She folded the parchment and slapped its edge into Katarina’s palm. “Noxian sorcery is a fine vintage. I look forward to receiving what you’ve promised me.”
Katarina had just begun to turn toward the door when Morgana interjected. “Before you go.” Her fingernails rapped against the thick glass display case as she slid the door aside and took out a square of fudge, lavished with thick strokes of frosting. “A little snack. You’re skin and bones, dear.” She smiled. “Skin and bones.”
Morgana, the Fallen Angel, has declared for Noxus!
Morgana fits thematically with Noxus, and offers them an interesting support option. She also has a decent story connection, given her canonical residence within Noxus. Because if you’re going to make cupcakes sweetened with the screams of the damned, Noxus is probably the place to do it.
“By the authority of the Council, let this adjudication begin. On petition by Noxus, now comes before us a Champion of the League of Legends in…good…standing, who seeks admittance to—”
Mundo’s serrated cleaver sank into the ancient, enchanted wood of the podium. Something gray,green, and altogether horrible oozed out from between the wood and the rusty metal. An interaction between the techmaturgical compounds applied to the cleaver and the rather more dignified magics that enchanted the podium spat ethereal sparks.
“No more jokeytalk from little Summoners! MUNDO FIGHT NOW!”
The Summoners scrambled for the appropriate scrolls and spilled magical binding ink in their haste to wet the quills.
Mundo clamped a fist around the handle of his cleaver and yanked it free. Some of that hideous ichor splattered the scribe’s desk.
“NOW! MUNDO FIGHT NOW!”
The Summoners were writing. Mundo ground his teeth suspiciously in big jowly gyrations. He tapped his foot, and slightly out of time with that he thwacked his cleaver into his palm like it was a ruler being readied to slap some knuckles. Quite unlike a ruler, with each thwack it drove into the flesh of his palm. Chemical-tinged blood dripped along the cleaver’s edge and puddled on the floor.
“S-state your name for—”
The other Summoner elbowed the first and shot her an “are you completely insane?” glare.
But Mundo answered.
“Hrmmmm … ” He looked up in thought. Drip, drip, drip, drip drip drip.
“Mundo want to be certain of Mundo’s answer.”
The Summoners made nary a peep.
” … Mundo … ” he murmured pensively. It was unclear whether this was noun, adjective, or verb. But the Summoner scribe began to write.
The quill froze. That was definitely a verb. An imperative verb, meaning ‘stop’.
“Mundo, Mundo … “
Mundo made eye contact and spoke firmly. “Mundo.”
The quill moved again. It completed its shaky transit across the page uninterrupted.
“Be it recognized that Dr. Mundo has declared allegiance to Noxus in the Mirrorwater dispute.”
Dr. Mundo, the Madman of Zaun, has declared for Noxus!
Mundo has a strong lore history of fighting for Noxus. He also represents their closeness with Zaun. Thematically, while he’s a bit goofier than the average Noxian, thunking jagged metal cleavers into the flesh of one’s enemies is something even the most conservative Noxian can appreciate.
Next Update — The Freljord Resolution