Credit belongs to Riot for Champions and Locations. It is helpful to read the background lore of all mentioned champions before beginning this story.

Prelude

Veigar. His name struck fear into the hearts of every yordle in Bandle City. Even Captain Teemo cringed at the name. Evacuations began when the Master of Evil gave his ultimatum. This is how Veigar wanted it. This is how he hoped that it was.

Yet some deep whisper in him told him that in Bandle City, they laughed at his name. That his hated enemy treated him as a petty theif or trouble maker. And his threats dwindled down to rumors of his foreseen failure.

For Veigar had seen failure. He knew what it was like in Bandle Jail. He had faced down other yordles outside of League, even Teemo, and been made the fool.

And after he broke out of prison, he would sulk in his lair. But not for long. Prisons made him paranoid, and he had more tricks up his sleeve than scars. He would have to go do something evil to return his mood of foreboding, his spirit of ill will. Doing something evil always gave him some form of happiness, no matter how shallow.

He only had reservations when Lulu was involved. It was because of an event that happened when he first truly met the purple yordle. His encounter with her had been about revenge to Bandle City, but his plan to kidnap her somehow turned into an afternoon of tea… and one tear that burned itself into his memory.

Chapter 1

It was always pitch black. So his eyes glowed with perfect night vision.

The smell of chemicals and burnt flesh hung on the air. Needless to say, Veigar's dark fur was not a normal fur color for yordles.

The halls echoed with screams and sobs. So his ears generally learned to ignore the needy.

But this time, he was searching for one voice, one ear trained on the line of cells to the left. He needed to find her.

His mind interrupted his search with images of their past: sitting around the campfire or walking along dusty roads together. And he imagined running through the Noxian forest, with her in his arms, an hour from now. It was what he was striving for. It was what he had broken out for. His other ear listened for the clomp of guards. He had chosen a rainy day, when superiors decided to force most of the guards outside. The rain muffled his own footsteps, and his constant ragged coughs seemed little else than background noise in this living hell.

He finally found the main security office. Inside was a single Noxian, who left this life with his own steel sending him off. Veigar wasted no time in finding the right file cabinet and searching for a name. This name didn't belong in these files. This name should never have come here.

But sure enough, he found the name "Kiri", labeled "Merchant", in the list of prisoners marked "K – I". Her list of torture treatments was far shorter than Veigars, but this did little to stop his agonized growl, which subsequently turned into a coughing fit.

He turned his head to cough into his arm, and when he looked back, he found most of the names were marked deceased. All along the list, at the very far right, were the status of the prisoners, their cause of deaths penned beside. His breath froze when he saw Kiri's status: "Deceased – chemical poisoning".

His world began to slowly spin, as his mind drew up images one last time.

Her soft green eyes flashed across his vision, her favorite summer dress, her long red hair, and lastly her fear. He heard her scream in his mind as they dragged her to her cell by her soft flowing hair.

By the file, she had not lasted two week… which means he had been alone in this prison for four years.

In that moment, all of the guards in the whole prison could have burst into room, and Veigar wouldn't have cared. He might have even tried to kill them all with his limited magical knowledge, or even his teeth. But his last friend in the world was dead.

What now? His plan to leave remained intact. But he now had a different escape route. His eyes turned to an object he had previously ignored. On the weapon rack, he found a battle axe, but the middle was made of enchanted yew wood, and the head had a yellow crystal in it. This means it could be infused with spells. Indeed, he found one spell already bound to it: "Primordial Blast" (one level below a "Burst" spell).

He tried to pick it up, but found it too long and unwieldy. He nearly left the mace, but saw two human-sized gauntleys lying in the armor section. He slipped them on, his fingers, stretched through torture, reaching just long enough. He chuckled darkly at how his captors HAD been useful for something.

He then easily picked up the mace. He turned suddenly and screamed the spell at the guard, his mace aimed in front of him. "PRIMORDIAL BLAST!" His voice was high and scratchy, again a result of torture, and that was the first thing he had spoken since his capture. His surprise at his own voice quailed at the awe of his spell.

Magical energy ran up the yew wood to fill the crystal in the mace, curling around the battle axe heads. A large blue ball of dark energy formed at the head of the staff, growing to the size of Veigar, before tearing towards the guard. But instead of just destroying the body, like Veigar thought it would, the whole wall fragmented and went flying outwards in small pieces.

Veigar walked up to the gaping hole, finding himself looking down on the main entry area of the Yordle Wing. Several guards were gaping at the small dark character. He allowed himself a small cruel chuckle (a first of many), as a few of them turned and ran for the safety of the barracks. He could get used to this.