4-7-2014

Hey, this is BoredTodai, just here to say that I am making changes. I've had reviews that I have agreed with whole-heartedly. Before those reviews came in, I felt as if something was very wrong and I wanted to change what has been written, but I haven't done anything until now. I guess the short excuse is that I rushed through this as fast as I could in order to get the ideas out of my head without second thought. Many of the chapters are getting slightly revised and a few will be making an exit as I finally decide the focal plot points. Sorry for not updating in a while, I just felt like I needed a more concrete understanding of my situation. So, with that being said, here is the story; as of now.

This is my first fanfic. I'm an avid Varus player and have recently read fanfics on here and Varus has almost no material for him. So here is my best shot for a story about Varus' reasons for joining the league and his relationships within it. As with most stories on here, please review this so I can know what to do to make this story better. -BoredTodai

Chapter One: A New Home

From the bed in the plain room in a dark hallway on the east end of the Institute of War, arose Varus. His league title was "The Arrow of Retribution" and like an arrow, he was flexible, strong, deadly and followed one path. The man -–creature, that was Varus stood, walked over to the mirror affixed to the wall across from his bed, shared by the door. He looked into the reflection and for once didn't see any new signs of corruption.

The tattoos of the Clever Owl were held unblemished from the blight that remained of his once pure body. Again, Varus wondered if that was what held Pallas off. His eyes were gray, surrounded by the tattoos that ran underneath them; like talons or tears, he was unsure. His hair was tied back behind him except for a loose strand that fell over the diadem he wore on to the gaunt face he had. His hair, mocking his youth, was no longer a deep brown, but changed to a white that reflected his cursed state. His chest was bare, save for a strap that once held a quiver and pauldron in place on his shoulder; the circular buckle's stone was shattered, once being a brilliant amber stone, but now a dark grayish-blue.

His legs, or what remained, were a writhing mass of violet tendrils, not being able to decide if they should be viscous or solid. The horror rose to only the base of his midsection, showing off his toned abdominal muscles and lithe body. The crawling heap may have stopped at the tail end of the owl that stretched down his back, but it resumed on the forearms past the beak of the wise bird; extending into false gauntlets, whose finger tips radiated a teal blue.

Around his neck, Varus observed the long, red scarf he wore, a present from his wife. His eyes teared up as he grabbed the head of a poorly shaped stone arrowhead his son gave him before his corruption.

"How are you so good dad?" Threshan pleaded with his dad.

"It took me a lot of practice, son," Varus replied, continuing, "And my father taught me the same way that I'm teaching you." The rock in Threshan's hand was triangular, but due to his haste, a chunk of stone was missing in one edge. "Besides, for your first try, this is amazing," he comforted, placing a hand on his son's curly, blonde hair.

"One day, I'm going to make better arrows than you!" Threshan said with renewed determination, his eagerness, a staple of his youth.

Varus was the temple guard, he wasn't going to be around as much as he should, but he was certain that someday, he wouldn't have to worry about the man that his son would one day become.

Or... would have become…

They will know regret, Varus thought angrily, reaching for the list, under the cracked stone of his old pauldron straps, that he memorized, with the names of the guilty.

A knock at the door startled him, though he showed none of it through his regained composure.

His face, cold and aloof, was greeted by the short Summoner Felisia. Her purple hood was pulled back and the extremely warm smile was again causing distrust run through Varus' mind. It was an unnatural happiness he decided. "You're being summoned Varus, aren't you excited?!" She said in a voice that wasn't too loud, but broke the silence of the dark gray corridor enough to seem like a scream.

"Thrilled," Varus responded sarcastically.

"Oh come on, you've just passed the Judgment and now you're telling me you don't even want to do what you came here for?" Felisia scolded him with dark eyes much to the contrast of those staring holes through her. Hesitantly, she told him further, "The match starts in thirty minutes, you should get ready and head to central courtyard before then, so the others can get you to the Rift." After Varus said nothing, unmoving, not showing any emotion, she went on, "By the time you get back from your grand debut, the seamstresses should have clothes to... suit you," she decided carefully, observing the mass under his navel, reaching the ground, "Are you sure you want to housed here, by the way?" Felisia asked, still as incredulous as when he asked to be roomed far from the other champions, lest Pallas finally wretch from his control.

The first room they wanted to give him was far too big, his possessions would barely cover any of the space in the grand room they offered him near the champion Syndra, another person decidedly wanting to be far from the others as Varus, albeit different reasons. When he asked for something that was much smaller, they came to the idea, after some arguing, to put a bed in a spare storage room to the first they offered.

Again, just as when he was questioned before, he answered, "This room suits me fine, the other would wind up being a waste of space, give it to the next champion that comes."

Seemingly unsatisfied, Felisia left with her unnerving smile after repeating the time and place he needed to be in half an hour.

Varus shut the door, back pedaled and summoned the liquid bow from his arm. He fancied it in his palm, the grip like a glove and the four staves reaching in pairs away from each other. He drew his fingers of his left hand to the area above his grip and pulled back. Not to his surprise, but still to his interest, a sharp apparition of an arrow materialized from the air, the liquid-like air pooling to a point before his fist.

This time when the door knocked, his startle caused him to release the grip on the shade of an arrow and the bolt was sent flying. Luckily, it hit the wall next to the door instead of the door itself. The point was wedged deep in the stone and he knew that if he hit the door, the arrow would have passed through without much effort.

He dashed to the door quickly and opened it to see an equally worried woman on the other side. Her eyes, the same purple as his corruption and their hair was the same shade of gray-white. Where his was strung back, hers fell forward covering much of her forehead before being swathed to behind her ear. Her skin was pale and covered with an informal black and purple cloth that reached past her wide hips, where two legs, clothed in skin-tight leggings extended to the floor. Her gray brows were writ in concern and her hands were outstretched to her sides, warped purple and black spheres floating from the ends.

"Is everything alright?" She asked urgently, "I heard a thud and thought something was wrong or something."

"No, my apologies," Varus lied, not wanting to show his weaknesses, "I just got startled and fell off my chair." He looked the woman over; from descriptions he heard back in his old homeland, Varus recognized the girl in front of him to be Syndra, if not in her usual gear. Funny, he thought, she doesn't seem that evil and threatening as the stories make her out to be.

"Well then," she said, relaxing the tension in her body, allowing the spheres to dissipate into auras surrounding her sinuous form. "My name is Syndra, I'm your neighbor," she pointed to darker area down the hall, even further east than his. "I just wanted to come down here and introduce myself before your first match..." A pause extended for a few seconds with Syndra shifting weight onto her other foot as Varus looked forward, unreadable.

"I'm Varus, Dark Sovereign," he replied cautiously, adding, "I've heard about you back in Ionia."

"O-oh, well, they aren't really that accurate!" She said, color arriving rapidly to her cheeks, embarrassment and shame coming across in drones.

"We'll for one, you're shorter than they make you out to be, but nonetheless, dangerous all the same, I'm sure," Varus stated nonchalantly.

"I've heard about you too, but no one ever said you didn't wear clothes," she replied, trying to change the subject to a more trivial matter, but to no avail as Varus slammed the door in her face, anger very apparent on his face.

Damnit, she thought, loneliness returning to replace her misplaced hope. Turning with a deep frown, shattering her façade and wishing she was just normal instead of the freak that they thought she was.

Author's Notes: Again, reviews would be much appreciated.