"Whatever you are, be a good one." -Abraham Lincoln

The High Court of Noxus, or as soldiers of Demacia called it, The Noxian Welcome Mat sat atop a jagged mountain. With thick stone towers and high terraces ascending towards the fading light of dusk. The cold innards of the giant a prismatic collection of sleek granite columns, stretching into shadow under the modest flicker of light. Grand halls adorned with massive decorative doors and tributes to the power of Noxus, whether attained by sweat of brow or sleight of hand. It made no difference which. It was here, among the myriad of halls and shadow where War heroes unlucky enough to be captured alive were put before council. And it was here that their fate was decided for them by the most competent group of liars and killers that could rise to power.

Those who were declared as enemies of Noxus would inevitably receive judgment with swiftness only matched by its brutality. The constant clashing on the battlefield between the two city-states had ensured a constant workflow for the council, Demacian prisoners providing them the luxury of easy decision making. And so it wasn't surprising when another rank and file patriot of Demacia found himself in shackles under a spotlight of his own, silently waiting for judgement. While members of the council sat in towering stands around him.

Back home he would be considered a hero, here he was just a piece of meat surrounded by gluttonous wolves.

"As a soldier of Demacia your guilt is already certain, we can move straight to sentencing...for your crimes against Noxus, I motion that this man be immediately sentenced to execution." The councilman raised his arm in approval of his own idea, while the remaining members of council did the same, silently echoing their support.

"The verdict is unanimous. The prisoner will be held in captivity until his execution can be done with convenience..." The councilman paused, leaning into his podium to better expose a grin of commendable smugness. "Long live Noxus."

An eerie silence filled the room, the Demacian soldier stared at the stone floor with an emptiness that filled the council with sadistic satisfaction.


The joyful cheer of the verdict from the corner of the room shattered the deafening silence. Every head in the room snapped to the side. That horribly inappropriate cry came from none other than Noxus's most infamous, and glorious, executioner, Draven. His look was unmistakable compared to his fellow death dealers. Casting aside the traditionally dull midnight uniform for a brightly colored ensemble that was beyond ostentatious. The standard practice of executioners hiding their face was also quickly cast aside, he wanted everyone to know who he was, to share his glory with the world.

Draven strut his way to center stage. He threw his arm around the prisoner's shoulders, wagging a meaty finger in his face. "Ya know, for a minute there, I thought they were going to throw you into a mine somewhere, that woulda sucked huh?"

The Demacian stared at his executioner's childish smile with puzzled horror. All those grotesque rumors of the Noxian executions were quickly becoming a reality.

Draven gave him a quick once over."You're not too banged up or nothin' either. You really look like you have a chance out there..." He leaned in with a sinister grin, "I hope you can run fast kid...I know I can." With a hard shove he sent the prisoner stumbling into the arms of a pair of guards. Draven turned his attention back to the council, "You stiffs will be there tomorrow right? Come on, we all know I give the best show in town anyway."

The council members passed a slight look of embarrassment between one another. The only thing that was more aggravating to them than hearing Draven's constant narcissism was having to accept the fact that he really was that damn entertaining.

"Yeaaaah I thought so heheh, weeeell-" Draven took a breath, grabbing his belt buckle. "You guys and gals try not to hurt your hand raising arms or nothin', I got places to be." He took a moment to brush his hand back across his hair, assuring it remained nothing more than perfect. Mockingly he pointed out to the center councilman, brandishing his signature smile. "Keep up the good work." He turned and began his boastful walk to the door, chest puffed with pride and a grin on his lips.

An unexpected voice from the council gave him pause."Your brother is back from his campaign...you can credit your recent surplus in work to him. He's been looking for you."

"Oh yeah? I'm sure the big guy will find me eventually..." Draven's grin shifted into slight annoyance as he resumed his walk. "He always does..." he muttered to himself as he shoved open the double doors.