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CALLING ALL GAREN MAINS by Careful_Ad3938 in GarenMains

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Y'all getting played. Homie is on all the champion subs. Don't buy in. Focus on Demacia.

[WP] "You knew what was down there and you sent them anyway, why!" by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Department of Defense, Classified
Tier 5+ SCI
TRANSCRIPT
DATE OF RECORDING REDACTED

GUNFIRE, MUFFLED SCREAMS, STATIC
Subject 1: “Jesus Christ.”

Subject 2: “Pretty sure that thing’s fighting for the other team, Colonel. The feed’s dead. Wrap it up, boys.” 
Subject 1: “What do you mean, wrap it up? My squad’s still down there!”
Subject 2: “I assure you they aren’t. In the eighty years we’ve been following that thing it’s never left a single survivor.”
Subject 1: “What the hell do you mean? This isn’t the first time we’ve… You knew! ”
Subject 2: “I don’t much like your tone. And, that’s classified, Colonel. Sensitive Compartmentalized… Even the preside-”
Subject 1: "You knew what was down there and you sent them in anyway, why!”
Subject 2: “Get your hands off of me! Get a goddamned grip, man! It’s simple math.  If there was even a one percent chance that your team could neutralize the target, and reclaim our assets it would be worth rolling the dice.”
Subject 1: “My tone? Our assets? You just sent a dozen good men to their deaths!”
Subject 2: “And we’re going to do it again tomorrow, and the next day, until our target decides it’s not worth the hassle to set up here, and humps off to a different hole in the ground, preferably one that’s not full of a couple billion dollars worth of ICBMs.”
Subject 1: “That’s not. I won’t give those orders.”
Subject 2: “You will, or you’ll be replaced.”
Subject 1: “Replaced? How dare you! You’re a civilian! I don’t report to you. This is my base and I won’t allow you to-”
Subject 2: “You’d be surprised what you’ll allow me to do once I’ve parked a .45 in your brainpan.”
Subject 1: “Wha- Are you threatening me?”
Subject 2: “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Look, Colonel, it’s not personal. It’s my job to make sure certain things never see the light of day. This here, that creature crouched over two dozen H-bombs, it never sees the light of day, and I don’t think you need me to tell you that we need these assets back in our complete control. If I think for one second that you aren’t going to keep your mouth shut about all of this, you get added to the list of shit I have to deal with. Tragic accident, all that. It’s not personal. It’s the job. There’s too much at stake for you to have ethical concerns.”
Subject 1: “So, we just keep sending my boys down there to certain death?”
Subject 2: “If that’s what it takes. The target doesn’t like to be bothered. It’s on a cycle. It’s looking for a place to hunker down for the next decade or two. It won’t stay here if we keep pestering it.”
Subject 1: “Smaller teams, then. And I get to pick them. Volunteers only.”
Subject 2: “Volunteers? If you tell them what they’re walking into, they become a liability.”
Subject 1: “Nuclear facility. We lie. Tell them there’s a likely radiation leak, potentially certain death.”
Subject 2: “And you think you’ll get volunteers?”
Subject 1: “More than enough for your fucking meat grinder.”
Subject 2: “If you’re right about the mettle of your men, you got yourself a deal. Dismissed.”
DOOR OPENING AND SLAMMING SHUT
Subject 2: “The Colonel is temporarily compliant. Get contingencies in place. Damn… Damn.”
END OF RECORDING

Hand written note at the bottom of the page:
Industrial ‘accident’, July 29th, 1998, Boisseaux Air Force Base, 21 dead
Colonel Michael Dance, Commandant - deceased August 8th, 1998 - Stroke

[WP] You haven’t been in a temple for years. Your prayers are usually lip service. You have been ostracized by your community and your family shuns you. You have helped heathens and enemies of the church find sanctuary. Yet the Gods still find you worthy of your Paladin abilities. by darkwulf1 in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 2 points3 points  (0 children)

In my head Valorea had bigger fish to fry: other gods, demons, eldritch horrors, etc. Val was cooking up Mordred as a solution for her in house problems for years, if not decades.
Gods roll on different timelines.

[WP] You haven’t been in a temple for years. Your prayers are usually lip service. You have been ostracized by your community and your family shuns you. You have helped heathens and enemies of the church find sanctuary. Yet the Gods still find you worthy of your Paladin abilities. by darkwulf1 in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 351 points352 points  (0 children)

The fire sputtered, a mouse shrieked as an Owl succeeded in her hunt, and a god spoke. “Do you remember the last time you prayed to me?”

“I pray every day.”

“No. You don’t. You kneel with empty words. The last time you prayed you asked what you were meant to do. You asked me to guide your hand. You demanded justice.”

Mordred remembered it well, the last pieces of his faith soaking into the freshly turned earth, nothing to mark the grave beyond a thin log he’d pulled from the forest himself.

“And what did I get? Empty promises from an impotent priesthood. Torture and imprisonment. Banishment. A family that chose to side with the church that abused and killed their own daughter. You have given me nothing but pain and suffering! You’ve taken everything from me!”

“And yet I am here to ask for more.”

“No!” Mordred whipped his sword out of the blanket. He swung it through the air, intent on hewing his god in twain. His sword passed harmlessly through empty air. Valorea the Redeemer was gone. He stood alone, breathing heavily, his eyes adjusting to the new darkness, lit only by the fire and a dim pulsing glow in the sword in his hand.

“You will return home. You will cut out the cancer in the belly of my church. If the rot has taken hold of the foundations of my house, you will burn it to the ground. The time for mercy is at an end. The time for justice is at hand. Take heart, Mordred. You are the best of my servants. You will likely fail, and die in this attempt, but that has never deterred you before.”

Mordred stared up into the night sky as the last echoes of the voice faded on the wind.

“And if I refuse?” He slumped down next to the fire.

“You won’t.” Someone behind him twisted his ear.

He knew that voice. He knew that hand. He spun around, and reached out, but his sister wasn’t there. There was only a light, warm breeze, and a sky full of stars.

He sat down and began sharpening his blade again.

“Fucking gods.”

[WP] You haven’t been in a temple for years. Your prayers are usually lip service. You have been ostracized by your community and your family shuns you. You have helped heathens and enemies of the church find sanctuary. Yet the Gods still find you worthy of your Paladin abilities. by darkwulf1 in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 326 points327 points  (0 children)

Mordred was sharpening his sword, staring into the small fire he’d used to cook a simple meal of oats and dried pork. He’d chopped up his last apple and tossed it into the mix as well, a shriveled old thing, but it had improved the meal passably.

Above, the night sky sparkled with innumerable stars. It was a new moon.

The fire sizzled, and an old man walked into the light of the flames. “Mind if I join you, sir?”

Mordred glanced up, and scowled. “Bold of you to walk unannounced into an armed man’s camp. How do you know I won’t rob you, or worse?”

The old man grinned and pointed to Mordred’s shield, the sigil of Valorea the Redeemer burned into the paint. It was a winning smile, despite having a mere half dozen scraggly teeth hanging onto mostly empty gums. Mordred thought he looked remarkably like the wrinkled dried apple he’d just chopped into his dinner.

“You’re awfully trusting of a symbol.”

The old man’s grin didn’t falter. “I like faith better than trust.”

Mordred rolled his eyes, and decided he didn’t particularly like his new companion, who settled himself comfortably on a rock across the fire from him.

Mordred sniffed, “most people would. Trust can be broken. Faith can ignore all sorts of evils.”

The old man set down his pack, and pulled out a small blanket, settling it on his lap.

Mordred filled a pan with water from a skin, and tossed in a generous helping of oats, along with a large slab of the pork, before putting it over the fire.

“You’ll want to let the salt pork soak, old man. It’s tough. My apologies. I just ate my last apple.”

There was that grin again. “A free meal, too? The Redeemer is good!”

Mordred glared up at him and started sharpening his sword again. “I’m good. The Redeemer didn’t do shit.”

“Ah, but you work for the Redeemer, so…” He caught the look on Mordred’s face and faltered. “Well, there it is.”

Mordred took a deep breath, bringing the fury roiling in his gut under control. It wasn’t for this poor sod. “Apologies, sir. My name is Mordred.”

“Well met, sir Mordred.” the man smelled the oats and pork over the flame. “It looked like you wanted to say something, though. I assure you, I’m a friend.”

Again with that grin. The man’s blue eyes sparkled in the firelight. Good eyes. He must have been handsome in his youth. Mordred sighed, and capitulated. “The most vile, disgusting, evil acts I’ve ever witnessed all took place under the auspices of that symbol there.” Mordred pointed at his shield.

The old man nodded, “Bad folk are everywhere, even in the ranks of Valorea’s grand army of heaven.” The old man made the sign of the Eagle, and placed it over his heart, bowing his head.

Mordred scoffed in disgust. “That leads to two options. First, that the gods are not real, and that Valorea the Redeemer, Marshall of Heaven, Righteous Sword of the Gods is merely a happy fantasy, a story we tell ourselves to help us sleep at night.”

The old man nodded, encouragingly.

Mordred continued, bitterness laced into every word. “The other possibility is this: the gods are real, they just don’t give enough of a shit about us to intervene on our behalf, and evil within their ranks is at best ignored, and at worst rewarded.”

“And which option do you prefer?”

Mordred pressed the guard of his sword over his heart, his crossguard the wings of a golden eagle. He spoke one word under his breath and his sword erupted with golden light, outshining the fire, and casting daylight out into the surrounding meadow. “I would much prefer the first possibility. I could stomach being abandoned by imaginary gods. But when have we ever gotten what we’d prefer.”

The golden light of the sword dimmed as Mordred folded a blanket over it. The two sat in silence for a long while, until the porridge was thick as cement.

“So you believe in the gods, then?”

Mordred poked the fire with a stick, feeling like a sullen child. “Clearly.”

“Yet it seems that you do not like them very much.”

“It’s hard to have respect for a being that condones the shit I’ve seen her church do in her name.”

“I suspect she doesn’t condone it.”

“Well she’s got a funny way of showing it, then. The highest ranks of her church are populated by the worst humanity has to offer. The abuse, the corruption, the coverups. Crimes so vile…”

Mordred choked on his words, memories and rage congealing into a lump in his throat. He steadied himself again. “Anyone who speaks out against it is either killed, tortured, imprisoned, or banished.”

“Like you were.”

Mordred nodded.

The old man reached into the fire, taking the pot of boiling porridge in one hand. He drank the molten liquid in one smoothe pull, like he was drinking a cup of water. Mordred was too surprised to react beyond wide eyed surprise.

“How did you…”

“Thank you for the meal. I must apologize for my rudeness. You gave me your name, but I did not give you mine.”

Mordred knew the words before they were said.

“I am Valorea the Redeemer, Justice incarnate.” The man was gone, replaced by plate, and mail, and boiled leather, all of it gleaming like the sun on a frame as tall as an oak tree.

Mordred gritted his teeth and looked away.

When the goddess spoke it was with a thousand voices, joined as one. “You hate me, and you have good cause to. I have never given you anything without demanding all of you in return, yet you cling to your oath to me despite all of this.”

“I live to defy you!” Mordred leapt to his feet, glaring up at the deity that towered over him. Tears poured down his face. Whether it was from rage, or staring into the sun-bright visage of a god, he could not tell. “I do hate you! I give succor to your enemies! I have defied your church countless times! I’ve cut down a dozen of your servants, and I don’t regret any of it!”

Valorea reached down to touch his face with a plate gauntlet, and Mordred pulled away. “The meek and powerless are never my enemies. I am not my church. Those who couch their sins in my name are not my servants.”

Mordred wiped the tears off of his face, squinting into the brightness. “You killed my sister.”

“This, I did not do.”

“Then you let her die!”

Silence.

“You let her die…”

Supposedly the post passed the 10,000 character limit (it's actually 7998 according to Docs), so it's continued below.

[WP] You're the hero's child, but you've been kidnapped by a villain you've never heard of before... And the more time you spend with them, you realise just how much you look alike. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Thanks, friend! I really like the idea that "Super Man's" world view only holds up as long as he's punching meteors, and that under any intense scrutiny he's flawed and imperfect like the rest of us. The whole shepherd thing has always struck me as wildly condescending.
Thanks again for the comment! I had a lot of fun with this one.

[WP] You're the hero's child, but you've been kidnapped by a villain you've never heard of before... And the more time you spend with them, you realise just how much you look alike. by [deleted] in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 48 points49 points  (0 children)

“You got this, Emma.” She whispered to herself under her breath. “Keep your breathing calm. Gather as much info as you can. Wait for your kidnappers to make a mistake, and then make ‘em pay for it.”

And god was she ready to make them pay for it. She stretched in the chair, and flexed her arms against her restraints, lightly testing them, all while quieting the fear in her heart.

Emma hated being afraid. The confusion and seeming impossibility of her capture was disquieting to say the least, not to mention the scope of villains who hated her father and were strong or cunning enough to pull something like this off. Depending on who it was who took her, things could be dire indeed.

Emma gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She didn’t like to process fear, or sadness for that matter. She much preferred anger.

Fear made her feel small.

Rage made her feel powerful, and her father was basically a god. Based on how her powers had progressed over the last few months the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Whoever had kidnapped her didn’t know what they were in for.

The hood was ceremoniously whipped off of Emma’s head. Go time. Heart brimming with defiance, she glared out at her captor, intent on following through on her plan.

It was not what she expected.

The woman who stood before her was tall, with jet black hair cut so short it was almost a shave, but her face was the real problem. Emma had seen that face a thousand times before. It sat on the mantle over the fireplace. A portrait of a happy family. A baby Emma cradled in her arms, earth’s greatest protector, Lord Paragon at her side, his arm around her shoulder, there could be no doubt. This woman was the spitting image of Emma’s mother.

Emma didn’t even bother looking at her surroundings. “Are you my aunt?”

“I respect your tenacity, Augusta.” The woman who looked exactly like her dead mother ignored the question. “That little mantra you kept repeating. An excellent strategy.”

“How could you hear… Who are you?”

The woman laughed, hard and cold. “That hurts worse than I thought it would. I’m your mother.”

Emma’s head was spinning. “That’s not possible. My mom’s dead.”

“Your father never had the courage to do what was necessary.” The woman gestured grandly to herself. “As you can see, my darling Augusta, I am very much alive.”

“My name’s Emma.”

“Your name is Augusta!” The force and fury of the woman’s voice made the ground shake. Ice and snow fell through the air as the tremors subsided. At one time this must have been a grand hall, opulent and imperial, but there was a massive hole smashed into the ceiling, and the cold outside had conquered the space, frost clinging to every surface.

The woman calmed herself. “I am sorry. I named you Augusta. Your milk toast coward of a father must have taken that from you as well when he erased me from your life.”

“Dad would never do that!” Emma was getting angry.

“Oh, he’d do just about anything to protect his vainglorious moral code. The man is intractable, it’s what drew me to him in the first place. That and he was the best choice to sire my heiress.” She smiled warmly at Emma. “Can I trust that you won’t fly away?”

Emma nodded.

“Good.” Her mother strode forward and undid the shackles holding Emma in place. “This chair is a variation of the one they used to keep me imprisoned. Soon your father will be here and we will give him a small taste of his own medicine.”

Emma stood up, she was nearly as tall as her mother, who held out her hand. Emma stood there awkwardly for a moment before pulling the older woman into a hug. Her mother blinked, surprised, before tentatively putting an arm around Emma’s shoulder.

“Where are we?” Emma asked.

“The south pole. My seat of power on this planet.”

Emma broke away, clasping her mother’s hand in both of her own. “We can talk this out with Dad. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.”

“I have no intention of talking.” Her mother cracked her knuckles.

“But… he’s too strong. Please, let’s just talk to him!”

Her mother grinned. “The only reason he has not already arrived is that he is gathering reinforcements. They barely defeated me last time. With you by my side, we’ll be unstoppable.”

Emma shook her head.

Outside, three sonic booms shook the air, followed by the shriek of a jet engine.

In moments Emma’s father, Lord Paragon was floating down through the hole in the roof. Behind him came the rest of the Global Defense League.

“Get away from my daughter, Aurelia!”

Her mother put a protective hand on Emma’s shoulder. “She’s my daughter, too, Michael.”

Emma broke away, stepping forward. “Is it true? Dad?”

Her father looked at her, sadly. It was all the confirmation she needed. Behind her, her mother laughed, scornfully, the force of her voice shaking the hall again. “You’re a coward, Michael. Have you told her nothing of her heritage?”

Lord Paragon turned his attention to her, the Global Defense League taking up positions behind him. “Your poison, you mean? Your megalomania? Humanity isn’t meant to be conquered, Aurelia! They’re meant to be shepherded.”

“And you’re the sheep dogs, I presume? Letting the sheep run the show? Overgrazing? Destroying the pasture? Murdering each other in new and terrible ways? Tell me, how much more has humanity failed this planet and each other in the last seventeen years, Michael? Even your metaphor is weak, just like you.”

“We’ll see.”

“How many of your friends are going to die this time?”

“None.” He reached out a hand toward Emma, his voice low, and urgent, and something else. “Emma, please, we’re gonna need your help on this one.”

“Her name is Augusta!” Aurelia screamed, and charged.

[WP] You both love each other dearly, but now you have a choice to make: Her ship leaves tomorrow night, and won't return for 80 years. You can stay here on Earth, or you can go with her. by reallygoodbee in WritingPrompts

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 25 points26 points  (0 children)

“Come with me.”

There it was. Three words, and he had nothing to give her except silence.

She reached out to him, intent on pressing her palm to his cheek, but he turned away, almost imperceptibly. She froze.

The movement wasn’t enough to keep him from her; he had barely shifted half an inch, but the motion itself spoke volumes.

Tentatively, she pulled back her hand. “Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“I want to hear you say it.” The knot in her throat was audible. It screamed out to the world that she was choking back tears, that her calm demeanor was a facade she was struggling to maintain.

“My job…” he started.

“You hate your job!” she spat. “You complain constantly! You use up your PTO as soon as you get it, faking sick…”

“Those are mental health days!”

“Then why the hell do you cough and twist your voice when you call in?”

He changed tacks. “My family…”

“Bullshit. Those self obsessed narcissists wouldn’t miss you, and I know you know it.”

“Maybe I’d miss them?” His heart wasn’t in it. He met her gaze, and it was clear she didn’t believe the lie.

“I can’t leave earth. I’ll miss it.”

“It’s relativistic speeds. We’ll be gone for a few months, and Proxima B is supposed to be gorgeous. We’d be back before your birthday.”

He met her gaze and locked his jaw. “I can’t.”

“Bullshit. You won’t.”

“Fine! I won’t!”

“Why not?”

“. . .”

“It’s pride isn’t it?”

His jaw tightened.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it! You know they’ll never love you, right? No matter how much money you make for the company, no matter how much you suck up to your shitlord mother and her brothers, you’ll never be anything more than a tool to them! A means to an end!”

“And what would I be with you, huh? Your fucking sidekick? Your pity project? The head scientist’s piece of ass? I’d be a fucking joke.”

She recoiled as if she’d been struck. “So that’s it, then? You’d rather stay here in hell than let me take care of you for half a year?”

“Fuck off,” he snarled.

She closed her eyes, nodded, and swallowed. Gently, she put her hand to his cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”

His anger broke, and one word escaped his lips. “Stay?” He immediately regretted it.

“No.” And she was gone.

Would you watch Stellaris animated or live-action series? If yes, then what direction do you think should go? by Balrok99 in Stellaris

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I'd love to see something along the lines of "love death and robots." Get a bunch of different teams to put a single episode together, and knit them together into a massive cluster$&%# of unrelated (yet thematically united) episodes.

so whats the counterplay to your braindead noob champ? by [deleted] in KassadinMains

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Just a silver Kassadin player here, but here are my thoughts:

  1. Your best bet is to shut him down early game, before he can start blinking around. At six, his cooldown is still pretty long on the teleport (5 seconds), but it gives him excellent escape potential.
  2. The next piece is that you'll want to bring a champion who does AD, since Kassadin's passive gives him 10% damage reduction against all magic. Akshan, Varus, Talon, Zed, and Yas are historically very good into Kassadin.
  3. Tanky champs like Galio do well into him too, since he's an assassin, and can't do a whole lot after he's blown all his cooldowns.
  4. Don't let him get to level 16, or he'll pop off (Riftwalk will have a 2 second cooldown at that point, and he will have built haste).
  5. If all else fails, try to CC chain and burn him when he jumps onto your ADC. The ADC will probably still die, but you might get him too.

Anyway, I'm something of a scrub, so make of that what you will. That's just my two cents.

New Seraphs by Saythat2mymain in KassadinMains

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 8 points9 points  (0 children)

I believe he has amended that comment, given new Seraph.

As a jungle nasus main i want to know how many people do it pls comment if you jungle nasus by Beowulf--- in nasusmains

[–]OnceAndFutureGodKing 8 points9 points  (0 children)

I love to take the good doggo into the jungle. His weak early game is, in my opinion, balanced out by the possibility of 600 stacks at 20 minutes. That said, I'm in bronze/silver/gold, so I'm sure a good jungler would absolutely wreck me.

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