The Company of Misery League of Legends

The wagon creaked in protest at the men pulling it along. The bolts rattled with each bump across the endless miles of the the marshes of Kaladoun, nails scratched and wiggled loose in their places as they had travelled in a winding path south. The little wagon let out little exasperated shudders at the weight of the shimmering black armor contained within it.
The men pulling it along cursed silently with every exhaled breath, of all the inhospitable terrain they had seen in their grim lives the marshes would be remembered as the worst. They were only kept on their feet by the idea of the prize awaiting them at the end of the long trek, and of course their fear of the third companion who was scouting ways through the endless muck.
Both men cursed loudly when their feet sank into yet another bog. The mud clung to their boots, it did not relent with ease. After a little fighting the two men both stood on dry land and examined their situation. The path backward seemed to be the only dry one, bogs of various sizes seemed to surround their escape. The one in front of them wasn't deep, but the mud with its tireless pulling would be difficult going. The wagon itself they felt would not survive yet another dragging marsh.
“How far can these marshes possibly go?” One man said to the other, each surveying the landscape for a dry route.
“Never been up this North, least not on land. Couldn’t say one way nor another. I ain't seen a star I know since we left Bilgewater. Strange paths have brought us here Pete… strange paths.” Said the other man.
“Do you think we turn back? The mistress would have our head if we delayed her any further…”
A pained moan came from the wagon, at first glance it seemed the wagon itself complained at the intolerable demand on its brittle wheels. But if observed closely, it was the armor which hung limp inside the wagon that made the bitter sound. It was the sound of someone at the end of their tolerance for life, who waited simply for it to be over.
“I simply can’t believe he’s alive still. Man was strong as sea stone, but even the strongest have limits. She pushed him past those long ago.”
“Don’t understand it one bit. She didn’t kill him, but made it impossible for him to carry his own weight. Seems a bit daft if you ask me.”
“Did I; ask you. Vic?.” Came a calm female voice from behind them. They turned but saw nothing.
“No mistress. I’m sure you have your plans, its only-”
“Dear, you need not speak. I know your mind. I am more concerned with the fact that your movement seems to have stopped.”
“There is a bog just here. We need a path through it.” Vic spoke into the air.
The woman revealed herself, her black hair tied sharply behind her, she wore armor of black leather which bore spikes of steel. The spikes ran up her pale legs and down her skinny arms. Her face had a look of utter calm however, the men had known this woman for long enough to know the ruse of her expressions.
She walked forward, brushing softly passed the men and placing one of her shapely shoes into the muddy pool.
“It isn’t deep,” She said with a callous look back at them. She crossed the bog and turned and examined the water way. “It isn’t long. It is a stream running east. Dry land is just here.” She stood around ten yards away from them. “It should be nothing but dry land from here. I have scouted ahead, the Noxians are waiting with our reward, I plan on collecting my bounty one way... or another. Now move or stop moving, I will find a way.” The two men looked at each other; unwilling to argue with her they grasp the front grips of the wagon and hauled it forward.
Pulling through the mud, the wagon progressed slowly. The woman came back from the other side of the bog, and began following just behind, inspecting the work. The mud seemed not to bother her in the slightest, no matter how many times her polished black high heels cut into the graceless muk, they would come back up clean as if they were just shined.
The wagon neared the border of the boggy stream with the men pulling against the dripping soil which sought to hold them back. The dry rugged land was just ahead, when the wagon began turning sharply right as the right wheel became obstructed by some unseen block contained under the murky water. They stopped pulling the wagon with breaths full of foul words.
“Can we try to lift it over?” Pete suggested. Vic nodded, and even Evelynn placed her hands below the forbidding wood of the dejected wagon.
They tried to lift the wagon, but between the armor and the mud which hung desperately to the wheels, they could not lift it over the unknown barrier.
The men began to push it backwards, but backwards seemed to only deter the wagon further, as the wheels began sinking deeper into the rips of tread where the wheels had been dragged before.
Evelynn noticed the change.
“Stop.” She said. But the men too focused on their task did not take heed, and the wagon’s right wheel sank deep into the muddy clasp of the pond. “Stop.” She repeated, placing her hands on the wagon’s back, bracing her strength against the men. They did not hear her over the sound of their laboring hearts, but the strength of Evelynn was a wall.
The wagon gave up with one last shudder, which crumpled and splintered the left side of the wagon. The left wheel flew free into the water, along with all the bolts that had attached it to the accursed thing.
The men swore, and torn into the water trying to retrieve the lost wheel; Evelynn simply stared at the men, and the wagon. Her calm expression unchanged. They found the wheel, but the bolts and screws had abandoned it. The men sat there at the wagons side for a moment, simply considering whether there would be a point in trying to run from the mistress of pain.
There was a long silence. Evelynn stared off into space without a single emotion flickering passed her face. Until finally she turned to the men and asked calmly.
“Do you believe he can walk?” Indicating the man in the armor.
“I can’t believe he breathes.” Pete said..
“He is stronger than you perceive. All he needs is the proper motivation.” She walked to the armor, the black metal shining in the dull light of the fog covered afternoon. “Barclis, you hear me? I know you can, and I know you are ready for the long sleep, it isn’t far off now my dear. Just a little further, and I can get you there faster… all you have to do is get me where I want to go. That is just a few miles walking, can you do that? Can you get me where I want to go? Or do I have to take you places no one ever wants to be?” She brushed her hand gently against the armor, and her look of calm evaporated into a look of gleeful anger. A voice rose from inside the armor, a scream like one who has forgotten all good things, and even the screaming is becoming lost.
The look of anger was replaced once again by calm on the face of the taunting woman. “I can do that, again and again. I won’t kill you. It’ll just be pain. But if you walk... I could end the pain forever. Now, will you walk with me?”
“If… I must…” The voice of Barclis replied, the voice was deep and unsettling and seemed to come from much further away than would be possible. Something about the tone set the men on edge, they weren’t sure why the voice screamed a danger to their very souls.
If Evelynn felt the danger too, she did not indicate that she had. She simply helped the armor as it was struggling to stand. The armor was an impressive piece of work; the metal they had obtained from the islands was a natural black, and the blacksmith had adorned some steel into the borders and joints to give it a sense of contrast. There were steel spikes raising from all points of the armor, the helm and the shoulder pads containing the largest of these. The spikes on the legs and arms were very similar to the woman’s own armor.
The blacksmith had imbued the armor with all sorts of magical properties, yet none of these were now saving his life as he attempted to walk through the small bog.
He took one step, and then another, Evelynn holding his arm. His armor deflected the mud back into the pool as easily as her heels had. The going was slow, but Evelynn was patient and helped with each step.
It struck the men that she could be a very caring person if she just cared about anyone.

They had long left the pool, and the wagon. Evelynn and the two men had taken turns helping the lumbering piece of metal walk. Under labored breaths Vic and Pete supported the massive arms.
“It isn’t far now.” Came Evelynn’s voice once again from the shadows. “They wait just seven miles ahead.”
Vic tried to nod that he understood, but barely had enough energy move his eyes from the spot just in front of him. Pete had abandoned the task of looking in front of him altogether.
“Mistress, we need to stop.” Vic said with exasperated breaths.
“We are close now, do not forget your rewards at the end. Let that sooth your muscles. Just a little further.”
“Men need more than a promise to slate a thirst.” Said Vic.
“We will have water enough when we reach out goal.”
“NO! No more moving until we receive some food and water.” Vic dropped his side of the metal suit, but Pete who hadn’t been paying attention to their argument did not.
The weight was far too much for Pete to handle, and the man inside could not hold his own weight, much less the weight of the armor. In a rolling trumble of frantic exhaustion, the armor thumped to the ground.
After a moment of quiet, filled only by a ghastly wheezing. A soft laughter filled the air. It did not come from Vic who looked on in horror, it did not come from Pete who was unconscious on the ground, it did not come from Evelynn who was restraining herself from killing the man beside her. It instead came from inside the armor, and then with a last gasp, ceased entirely.
Vic ran over to the body, he lifted the right arm, letting it drop promptly back to the easement of Earth. He dug his fingers into the metal mesh under the helm until they found flesh, and waited.
“Mistress... his dead now. He won’t be walking again in this life.” Vic stared at her, waiting for the fall of the axe.
But Evelynn had watched the fall; she had felt his death and reveled in it. No matter, she could move on to other plans. The Noxian’s were waiting for her on the other side of this marsh, and she would bring the body and the armor as requested no matter how long it took.
“When Pete wakes, feed him. Fetch yourself some water as well. I’m going to search for rope, do not leave the body unattended.”
“Aye mistress.”
With the short spin, she vanished, Vic began the task of getting some water. Hating her, hating the marshes, and most of all hating the armor and the blacksmith who had made it, who now resided inside of it... as a corpse.

Vic returned with the first bucket of water, and sloshed it over Pete’s sleeping form. Pete awoke with wonder at the dead body, and Vic, and the lack of Evelynn.
“Get a meal going.. We should have enough dried goods in here.” Vic threw a sack at the startled Pete. “If you can get a fire going, try cooking something, but mostly just rest.” Pete nodded. Vic went back to the river for more water.
‘Just get through these marshes.’ Thought Vic as he lowered the bucket into the only semi-clean water source that he had found nearby. ‘If I can just through these, I’ll be a rich man. I’ll be richer than Vincent at any rate. I will be able to buy my own damn ship, or maybe buy the ship from under that cowardly sod.’
Vic knew certain things. He was going to meet a destiny unlike any other. Become the most fierce pirate captain of the Bilgewater port. Pete could be his second in command, they could own the ships together. They certainly had cut enough throats together, enough to earn them a better life after this last bitter task was done.
Vic had filled the bucket and began hauling it back when he noticed a flickering light in the distance. Fire, Pete had got one going!
Vic ran forward in delight. Being a pirate captain could wait, a warm meal would be enough for him right now.
But Pete wasn’t cooking. He was staring at the fire, shivering. His body was deathly white.
“Pete! How did you get one going!”
Pete did not respond.
“Uh. Did you cook anything? Here is some water.” Vic offered the bucket, but again Pete did not respond.
“Pete?...” Vic walked close and put a hand on his shoulder, or tried to. His hand passed straight through the stark white body of Pete,
“PETE!” Vic shouted as Pete grabbed him with very solid hands. Vic tried to push him off, but could not make contact, his skin wasn’t there. And that is when Vic saw the real body of Pete, laying dead in the grass just a few feet away with a look of horror on his face.
“What are you?”
“Do you not recognize your friend?” Said that deep voice, said that tone of unsettling horror. The voice of the blacksmith, the voice of the dead man. The voice of the armor.
“I felt the need to thank both of you, for taking up this mission.” The phantom Pete turned him around. The sight which greeted Vic was the most horrible thing he had witnessed in his life. The armor stood, with eyes that glowed red with a fire that would not go out. It was much the same armor that they had forced the blacksmith to wear, except it had grown, the spikes were now bigger in some places, smaller in others. Also it was much taller than it previously had been and wider.
“If you are ready, I have another mission for you.” Said the armor.
“What… what’s that?”
“To die; screaming.”
Vic complied; in every sense of the word.

Evelynn had been through these marshes once before, and neither loved nor hated them. They simply were another obstacle in the way of completing another job. She ran through the marshes in speeds that should have been impossible with the mud, not to mention the shoes she was wearing.
She never felt more free than when she ran at full speed, after the death of an enemy. She wasn’t like others in her profession, she didn’t blind herself with money or reasons. She killed people; she liked to kill people. The little secret she held to herself was that she didn’t care about the money in the slightest. The more you had, the move you could lose.
Evelynn considered herself to have nothing, nothing which anyone could ever steal or destroy or threaten; this made her an extremely deadly being.
She did believe in one thing; get the job done. She wasn’t like Vic or Pete who would take the highest bid and call it a good option. The original client was her client, and a job well done was her only mission.
She scouted areas that she was unfamiliar with, but once she had visited an area she would have it memorized forever. It wasn’t just her eyes that scanned, but a power deep within her that felt space around her. She could feel deep under the ground and know what lay beneath her, and on all sides she could feel the animals and insects that inhabited these marshes. Their eyes could not detect her, and she passed by merely a shadow of a shadow. Nothing but the strongest could detect Evelynn when she chose not to be seen. But she wasn’t alone in her strength, she could feel it.
Her thoughts brewed on constructing a rope that she could use to drag the body by herself if she needed to. She was reconsidering taking the pathetic workmen to the end of the mission, they seemed like competent enough choices when she had asked Vincent for some men to transport the cargo. But they had proven themselves fools several times enough that their end was guaranteed. A just reward.
She would have to question Vincent thoroughly when this was done to see if the sabotage was intentional. She doubted Vincent would have the courage it would take to double cross her, but the fearful do make the best storytellers.
She had gathered enough vines to make a solid enough rope, and her thoughts turned to her prize. She would have to play this correctly, she could not risk leaving it with those fools for too much longer. Something in these marshes was alive and watching. She turned back to the the place she had left the corpse to rot.

Two of what seemed like men sat at a fire. Two of what seemed like men stared blankly into its core and warmed what they pretended were their hands. The master of these new beings lay on the ground in wait for the prey that would come, in time, directly into his hands.
He lay without breathing, no longer requiring such annoying habits, and simply stared at the stars with the wonder of magics on his mind.
Then, just when the sun seemed to be sinking into the western lands, he saw her. She had been running swiftly toward the men but had now stopped. She looked around in all directions for something. And he lay, waiting for her to make the wrong move that surely she would make.

Evelynn had been returning to the camp, but stopped when she felt a presence watching her. Something here could see her, and another unusual event was occurring in front of her. The men had somehow started a fire and they were sitting silent warming their hands. As capable as they had once seemed, the men had absolutely no talent in shutting the hell up.
Something was very, very off here. Evelynn eyed the armor, something from that area was seeing her. She circled around to try to see behind it. Perhaps some competing mage had enticed her workers, looking to steal the magical armor.
But again, the men were silent. Even under threat of death they shut their mouths as often as a Piltover Progressive. Something was here, waiting for her. The men were part of it. Her goal became simple, kill her men, kill whoever was here and get the armor back to the Noxians.
She crept up on the men, approaching slowly, looking in all directions for some sign of the stronger being that was observing her at this very moment. She crept slower, crouching low until she was within striking distance.
She revealed herself only a moment before she struck. However her hand went straight through the pretend to be Vic, and he stood up and turned to face her. Pete behind him did the same. Both men she could see now were in terrible agony and were deathly pale… no, not pale, they were white. With cold dread, something she rarely felt, she realized they were ghosts of their former selves.
They approached her, but fear would not get the best of her. She ravaged the first ghost, she struck out with a full blast of her magical force, it dissipated a chunk of the body of the ghost only slowing its approach. The second ghost was upon her before she could strike again, but it did not attack merely grabbing her arm in a steel grip.
The other ghost approached, she needed to get away from these beings, and quickly. She sprang away from the first one, twisting with wild ferocity, it lost its grip and vanished. She ran at top speed from the first ghost which had regained its form, it chased her mindlessly. When she had gotten it far enough away from her objective, she backtracked in a wide circle, her only thought was to get the armor and retreat to some location where she might have an advantage over her unseen nemesis.
She approached the armor, grabbing hold of its arms and pulling with all her might. The armor was heavier than she remembered it being, and as she looked down on it, the eyes opened. Red fiery eyes looked at her from the armor, and it reached with its iron gauntlet and grabbed her arm.
She screamed, as she realized who her terrorizer was. She pulled away from the armor twisting her slender wrist out of the grip of the gauntlet. The armor rose to its feet faster than should have been physically possible.
She was conflicted, part of her was in terror of death and yet her rational self said that she needed the armor and the man; complete the mission. So she posed herself for either running or fighting, trying to rationalize emotions.
Behind her the forgotten ghost closed in and grabbed hold of her, once again the ghosts grip was like steel. She could not twist away this time. While the ghost was light, and she could still move, it would slow her down considerably, at least forty percent; she would be forced to fight.
She ran at the armor, clawing with a force strong enough to cripple a normal man, but the armor merely shook it off. Gong like sounds seemed to pop from nowhere, as shards of metal came flying around the armor beast. It approached her without fear the metal tearing into her skin.
She quickly pulled the full force of her hatred, all her malice and spite, to the forefront of her mind and then punched at the armor. The force of the assault made the armor stumble backward, but did not put a dent into the being. He simply laughed, and she realized it wasn’t the armor but the blacksmith inside, the man who was dead, who was in control.
She slashed at the armor, or the man… or whatever it was now. She slashed with claws made of magic spawned from the deepest hatred she could summon, but to no avail. The armor held up a gauntlet and a wave of force fired from it. She fell backward.
The ghost that was gripping her arm, now was holding her down. The air shimmered above her as the ghost she had destroyed reappeared, and helped his twin hold her.
“I contained their souls in this.” Came a voice both familiar and terrible. It was the voice of Barclis but with an added vibrato, as if his voice came from a deep cave.
The armor held up a small item that looked like a black gem, however she could tell it was made of metal. “They will endure forever, with the pain of their last moments. Serving whomever holds this… and yes, I’m going to give it to you in time.”
“What are you? What are you planning? Are you going to turn me into one of these?” She asked, her voice still calm and unstrained even through her struggles against the ghosts pinning her down.
“This fate is too simple for you.” He waved casually at his former victims  “I was thinking something more.. gripping. Something to hold you to life forever. As a gift to you, for all the pain you caused me.”
“Do what you must, but if you do not kill me I swear by any gods that exist, I will have my vengeance for this night.” Her voice was again calm, but behind it held the power of pure hate. It was a summons, it worked its way into the core of the victim and forced them to do her will. The armor however seemed unaffected by the magical wheedling.
“What I must? We shall see…” Barclis reached down and placed the gem on her head. She felt it lock there as it attached to her skull. Then he placed the palm of his gauntlet against the black gem. She felt a sickening sensation as metal entered her bloodstream.
It tore her veins apart. Entering every organ, it was the black metal, stitching through her entire body. Her strength could not endure, she lost her mastered control. The years of training, the decade of using her abilities with utter mastery; broke. She screamed as her emotions flooded out of her, the nearby grass and the bodies of Pete and Vic, still sitting there forgotten, was vaporized into black dust. The energy radiated out of her, and even Barclis toppled backward as he was completing his work.

The ghosts let go of Evelynn and dissipated. She relaxed against the burnt landscape. Her skin a deep hue of blue, and her eyes a shining silver. After a moment she stood. She turned to the armored mass who was looking over her.
Of all the weapons he had forged, she was the greatest and he was proud of his work; as any artist would be.
But deep in her mind, there existed a tiny area which had not been touched by the monster, and remained in her control. Feeling the urging from the gem, she knew now what she must do what she had done for most of her life; pretend.
“What will happen now?... Master.” She whispered.
“We will return to where this began, and I shall bring great… suffering.”