#i might make this choice solely on the single volume way of kings cover

[shatteredsnail]

i barely ever buy books because the local librarian has known me by name since i was 6 and sends me emails when she doesn’t see me for a while but i want to buy stormlight so badly. only issue is deciding between versions

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

Money has been essential both for building empires and for promoting science. But is money the ultimate goal of these undertakings, or perhaps just a dangerous necessity?

It is not easy to grasp the true role of economics in modern history. Whole volumes have been written about how money founded states and ruined them, opened new horizons and enslaved millions, moved the wheels of industry and drove hundreds of species into extinction. Yet to understand modern economic history, you really need to understand just a single word. The word is growth. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, the modern economy has been growing like a hormone-soused teenager. It eats up everything it can find and puts on inches faster than you can count.

For most of history the economy stayed much the same size. Yes, global production increased, but this was due mostly to demographic expansion and the settlement of new lands. Per capita production remained static. But all that changed in the modern age. In 1500, global production of goods and services was equal to about $250 billion; today it hovers around $60 trillion. More importantly, in 1500, annual per capita production averaged $550, while today every man, woman and child produces, on the average, $8,800 a year. What accounts for this stupendous growth?

Economics is a notoriously complicated subject. To make things easier, let’s imagine a simple example.

Samuel Greedy, a shrewd financier, founds a bank in El Dorado, California. A. A. Stone, an up-and-coming contractor in El Dorado, finishes his first big job, receiving payment in cash to the tune of $1 million. He deposits this sum in Mr. Greedy’s bank. The bank now has $1 million in capital. In the meantime, Jane McDoughnut, an experienced but impecunious El Dorado chef, thinks she sees a business opportunity – there’s no really good bakery in her part of town. But she doesn’t have enough money of her own to buy a proper facility complete with industrial ovens, sinks, knives and pots. She goes to the bank, presents her business plan to Greedy, and persuades him that it’s a worthwhile investment. He issues her a $1 million loan, by crediting her account in the bank with that sum. McDoughnut now hires Stone, the contractor, to build and furnish her bakery. His price is $1,000,000. When she pays him, with a cheque drawn on her account, Stone deposits it in his account in the Greedy bank. So how much money does Stone have in his bank account? Right, $2 million. How much money, cash, is actually located in the bank’s safe? Yes, $1 million. It doesn’t stop there. As contractors are wont to do, two months into the job Stone informs McDoughnut that, due to unforeseen problems and expenses, the bill for constructing the bakery will actually be $2 million. Mrs McDoughnut is not pleased, but she can hardly stop the job in the middle. So she pays another visit to the bank, convinces Mr Greedy to give her an additional loan, and he puts another $1 million in her account. She transfers the money to the contractor’s account. How much money does Stone have in his account now? He’s got $3 million. But how much money is actually sitting in the bank? Still just $1 million. In fact, the same $1 million that’s been in the bank all along.

Current US banking law permits the bank to repeat this exercise seven more times. The contractor would eventually have $10 million in his account, even though the bank still has but $1 million in its vaults. Banks are allowed to loan $10 for every dollar they actually possess, which means that 90 percent of all the money in our bank accounts is not covered by actual coins and notes. If all of the account holders at Barclays Bank suddenly demand their money, Barclays will promptly collapse (unless the government steps in to save it). The same is true of Lloyds, Deutsche Bank, Citibank, and all other banks in the world.

It sounds like a giant Ponzi scheme, doesn’t it? But if it’s a fraud, then the entire modern economy is a fraud. The fact is, it’s not a deception, but rather a tribute to the amazing abilities of the human imagination. What enables banks – and the entire economy – to survive and flourish is our trust in the future. This trust is the sole backing for most of the money in the world.

In the bakery example, the discrepancy between the contractor’s account statement and the amount of money actually in the bank is Mrs McDoughnut’s bakery. Mr Greedy has put the bank’s money into the asset, trusting that one day it would be profitable. The bakery hasn’t baked a loaf of bread yet, but McDoughnut and Greedy anticipate that a year hence it will be selling thousands of loaves, rolls, cakes and cookies each day, at a handsome profit. Mrs McDoughnut will then be able to repay her loan, with interest. If at that point Mr Stone decides to withdraw his savings, Greedy will be able to come up with the cash. The entire enterprise is thus founded on trust in an imaginary future – the trust that the entrepreneur and the banker have in the bakery of their dreams, along with the contractor’s trust in the future solvency of the bank.

We’ve already seen that money is an astounding thing because it can represent myriad different objects and convert anything into almost anything else. However, before the modern era this ability was limited. In most cases, money could represent and convert only things that actually existed in the present. This imposed a severe limitation on growth, since it made it very hard to finance new enterprises.

Consider our bakery again. Could McDoughnut get it built if money could represent only tangible objects? No. In the present, she has a lot of dreams, but no tangible resources. The only way she could get her bakery built would be to find a contractor willing to work today and receive payment in a few years’ time, if and when the bakery starts making money. Alas, such contractors are rare breeds. So our entrepreneur is in a bind. Without a bakery, she can’t bake cakes. Without cakes, she can’t make money. Without money, she can’t hire a contractor. Without a contractor, she has no bakery.

Humankind was trapped in this predicament for thousands of years. As a result, economies remained frozen. The way out of the trap was discovered only in the modern era, with the appearance of a new system based on trust in the future. In it, people agreed to represent imaginary goods – goods that do not exist in the present – with a special kind of money they called ‘credit’. Credit enables us to build the present at the expense of the future. It’s founded on the assumption that our future resources are sure to be far more abundant than our present resources. A host of new and wonderful opportunities open up if we can build things in the present using future income.

If credit is such a wonderful thing, why did nobody think of it earlier? Of course they did. Credit arrangements of one kind or another have existed in all known human cultures, going back at least to ancient Sumer. The problem in previous eras was not that no one had the idea or knew how to use it. It was that people seldom wanted to extend much credit because they didn’t trust that the future would be better than the present. They generally believed that times past had been better than their own times and that the future would be worse, or at best much the same. To put that in economic terms, they believed that the total amount of wealth was limited, if not dwindling. People therefore considered it a bad bet to assume that they personally, or their kingdom, or the entire world, would be producing more wealth ten years down the line. Business looked like a zero-sum game. Of course, the profits of one particular bakery might rise, but only at the expense of the bakery next door. Venice might flourish, but only by impoverishing Genoa. The king of England might enrich himself, but only by robbing the king of France. You could cut the pie in many different ways, but it never got any bigger.

That’s why many cultures concluded that making bundles of money was sinful. As Jesus said, ‘It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God’ (Matthew 19:24). If the pie is static, and I have a big part of it, then I must have taken somebody else’s slice. The rich were obliged to do penance for their evil deeds by giving some of their surplus wealth to charity.

If the global pie stayed the same size, there was no margin for credit. Credit is the difference between today’s pie and tomorrows pie. If the pie stays the same, why extend credit? It would be an unacceptable risk unless you believed that the baker or king asking for your money might be able to steal a slice from a competitor. So it was hard to get a loan in the premodern world, and when you got one it was usually small, short-term, and subject to high interest rates. Upstart entrepreneurs thus found it difficult to open new bakeries and great kings who wanted to build palaces or wage wars had no choice but to raise the necessary funds through high taxes and tariffs.

That was fine for kings (as long as their subjects remained docile), but a scullery maid who had a great idea for a bakery and wanted to move up in the world generally could only dream of wealth while scrubbing down the royal kitchens floors.

It was lose-lose. Because credit was limited, people had trouble financing new businesses. Because there were few new businesses, the economy did not grow. Because it did not grow, people assumed it never would, and those who had capital were wary of extending credit. The expectation of stagnation fulfilled itself.

- Yuval Noah Harari, The Capitalist Creed in Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind

[blueares]

Ruination Rewrite: Ixtal

Ixtal Part I

You wander through the Sentinel vaults alone, looking over ancient artifacts the Sentinels have gathered over the years. Not much stands out of interest, save for the uncarved Relictsone chunks and the sole fetter you acquired in Zaun. Beyond that, the only thing of note is an old bookshelf filled with dusty volumes and scrolls.

To pass the time until your next mission, you decide to skim through some of these old texts. Most of them turn out to be logs of past Harrowings and descriptions of notable entities within the Black Mist: The Deathsinger, the Shadow of War, and the Chain Warden, to name a few.

One scroll stands out to you, looking slightly older than the others. You open the scroll to find no text, but instead a single depiction of a peculiar-looking Sentinel weapon. Though faded, something about the image stands out to you as significant…

Lucian: “Doin’ some homework, Rookie?”

“WOAH! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Just passing the time, sir.”

Lucian response 1: “Heh.  You’ve still got a lot to learn, Rook. Come on, everyone’s waitin’ for you.”

Lucian response 2: “Well, time’s up. Get to the map room. We’ve got our next assignment.”

You follow Lucian to the map room, where the Sentinels linger stand waiting for your arrival.

Graves: “About time.”

Gwen: “Good morning, Rookie! I trust you’re ready to depart?”

Senna: “He’ll have to be. Our next stop is the Kumungu Jungle. This Mist there is behaving strangely, but there’s a good chance we’ll find a fetter there either way.”

Riven: “I don’t get it. Last I heard, there are barely even any settlements in Kumungu. Noxus has been trying for years to establish a foothold there, but the jungle is just too hostile. How can a fetter wind up there?”

Jayce: “I remember hearing something about a ‘hidden tribe’ attacking Piltovan mining equipment in the jungle lately, so maybe they have something to do with it?”

Lucian: “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got our orders, Sentinels, and we can’t let what happened in Bilgewater happen again. Rookie, let’s get moving before Viego or any of his lackeys get their hands on that fetter.”

“Yessir!”

“Next stop: Kumungu!”

You raise the Wayfinder and let its light wash over you. When the light recedes, you find yourself surrounded by grumbling ruins covered in moss and vines. Barely anything remains of the Sentinel outpost, as it seems to have been mostly reclaimed by the jungle.

Gwen: “Ah… I suppose we won’t be finding any Sentinel allies in this place, then.”

Diana: “I sense powerful magics at work here…”

Shen: “Indeed. As Ionia and Targon are abundant in spiritual and celestial magics, this place brims with the energy of elemental magic. This wild, untamed power must not be taken lightly.”

Graves: “I didn’t understand a word of what you just said, but I sure as hell don’t see any ghosts here.”

Olaf: “Indeed! I sense nothing amiss!”

Riven: “That canopy is so thick that I can barely make out anything in our surroundings. How are we supposed to find the fetter in all this?”

Senna: “I don’t like it, but… It might be better to fan out in comb the area. We’ll split up into groups and head off in different directions. Shen, you go with Olaf and explore north. Diana, Riven, Vayne, you three head south. Graves and Jayce will head east, while Lucian and I head west.”

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“What about me?”

“What about Gwen?”

Senna: “Rookie, you stay here with Gwen. The last thing we want is you and that Wayfinder getting lost in the jungle. Don’t worry, the Hallowed Mist should keep you safe if anything DOES show up, and you’ve still got that Relicstone fragment I gave you.”

Gwen: “Don’t fret Rookie! I’m sure we’ll have a delightful time together!”

Vayne: “What if one of us DOES find something?”

Senna: “Use your weapons to fire a beacon into the air. Everyone, keep your eyes on the sky, and try not to go too far. We’ll meet back up in two hours to debrief.”

With that, you watch as the Sentinels all make their way into the surrounding jungles, leaving you and Gwen by yourselves.

Ixtal Part II

You and Gwen have a seat in the ruins of the Sentinel outpost and chat the time away, mostly discussing mundane things like hobbies or interests. Things are pleasant at first, but you soon find yourself getting thirsty from all the talking.

“I think I need a drink.”

“We should have packed some water.”

Gwen: “Oh dear. You’re thirsty? I’ve never been thirsty before, but I understand that it’s an unpleasant sensation. I’d serve you some tea, but…”

Gwen stands up suddenly and looks around.

Gwen: “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to find some water then! There must be a stream or lake nearby, surely.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get back?”

“Good idea. I’ll grab a quick drink and be right back.”

Gwen response 1: “Not to fret, we shan’t be gone long! Let’s see… I think I hear the faint sound of running water coming from this direction.”

Gwen response 2: “Quite right! We mustn’t keep the others waiting, after-all.”

You follow Gwen through the jungle, making your way north-east from the outpost ruins. The two of you arrive at the base of a small stream, where you quickly kneel down and start to drink. As you do, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The hairs on your neck stand up, but before you can even look around…

Gwen: “Rookie, look out!”

Something suddenly pounces onto your back, pinning you to the ground.

???: “I have you now!”

In an instant, Hallowed needles whiz through the air, but your assailant quickly deflects them with a large dagger.

Gwen: “Bad kitty! Release Rookie now, please!”

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake!”

“I swear I don’t taste very good!”

Rengar: “You think to deceive the great Rengar? Grrr… It is faint, but I smell that same wretched stench upon you, child. The scent of undeath. You know of the monsters stalking my jungles, do you not?”

Gwen: “Oh dear! Mister Kitty, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea! Rookie and myself are Sentinels; we hunt those nasty creatures!”

Rengar: “Ha! Hunt them? You cannot hunt them! I have tried. Fangs. Claws. Blades. The beasts do not fall.”

“You just need the right tools for the job.”

“Uh, we can teach you how to hunt them, if you’ll let us go.”

Rengar seems to mull the matter over for a moment before climbing off of you. You slowly climb to your feet as Gwen rushes to your side, though Rengar looks ready to pounce again at a moment’s notice.

Rengar: “Fine then. Tell me how kill the beasts that cannot be killed!”

Just then, an inhuman scream sounds out from the jungle behind you. You, Gwen and Rengar all turn to see a pack of undead beasts emerging from the trees, their ephemeral eyes focused on Rengar.

Gwen: “Oh dear, where did they come from?”

Rengar: “Hrrng… Perfect. Now, you can demonstrate with action! Show me how to hunt these beasts, humans!”

Gwen: “Rookie, you just stay back! I’ll take care of this!”

Gwen rushes into the fray as the undead beasts charge in kind, leaving you with little choice but to watch…

Ixtal Part III

The beasts cry out as Gwen cuts them apart with scissors, dispelling the Black Mist from their bodies. Her movements are elegant and precise, and within moments she had dispatched the undead beasts around her.

Rengar: “So it is true… But how?”

“Only certain kinds of magic can hurt the undead.”

“We told you: we’re Sentinels. This is what we do.”

Rengar response 1: “Magic… Grr… So be it. If I must learn this magic to hunt the dead, then I shall!”

Rengar response 2: “I see… Then there is little choice. Teach me your ways, Sentinels!”

Gwen: “Oh my! You want to become a Sentinel, Mr. Kitty? Well, we’ll need to speak with our friends about it, but I’m sure they’d welcome you!”

“We could use all the help we can get.”

“Honestly, you’re not the strangest person to join our group.”

Rengar: “So I need the approval of your pack? Fine! Tell me where I may find them.”

You quickly explain the situation to Rengar, detailing everything as precisely as you can.

Rengar: “Hmm… So this ‘Ruined King’ seeks these ‘fetters,’ and he commands the Black Mist? Then to stop the undead, we need only hunt him, yes?”

Gwen: “Quite right, but the more fetters he gets, the stronger he seems to become! That’s why need to find the fetters first!”

Rengar: “I understand! If all that you say is true, then I may know where you will find this fetter.”

“Seriously!?”

“Really? Where?”

Rengar: “The Mist is thick in Kiilash territory… That means the fetter you seek is likely in my home village. Come with me!”

Rengar turns and sprints into the jungle, expecting you to follow. You and Gwen exchange an uncertain look, but with no immediate way to contact your allies, you have little choice but to follow Rengar into the jungle.

Gwen: “I do hope Senna won’t be too cross with us, but surely she would want us to find the fetter before that awful king!”

With Rengar as your guide, you make your way deeper into the jungles. You and Gwen barely manage to keep up, but the Black Mist does indeed grow thicker the further in you go. The screams of wraiths grow louder as well, but Gwen summons a shroud of Hallowed Mist to keep both you and Rengar safe. Even so, you once again feel as though something is watching you from the darkness, keeping just out of sight.

For a moment, you think you hear a faint rattling, but it stops almost as soon as it begins. You dismiss it as your imagination and head deeper still, determined to recover the fetter before the Ruined King arrives.

Ixtal Part IV

You arrive in a village hidden amongst the trees, though you quickly find the place empty and abandoned.

“This is your home, Rengar?”

“Where is everyone?”

Rengar: “I have not been here in many moons. I left the Kiilash behind me long ago and had not planned to return… I do not know what became of them, but it not my concern.”

Gwen: “That’s awful, Mr. Kitty! I haven’t been home in a long time either, but I know I would be quite sad to see it such a state…”

Rengar: “Hmph. It does not matter. Let us claim our trophy and leave before-!”

Suddenly, Rengar grabs you and tosses you aside. A dark shape descends from the tree tops and pounces on Rengar. Metal rings out against metal as the hunter struggles against an older-looking Kiilash with a long gash down his torso. Upon further inspection, you realize that Rengar’s assailant is undead.

???: “So, you finally return! It seems I was right to wait for you here, Rengar!”

Rengar: “Impossible! You died! I killed you myself, Ponjaf!”

Ponjaf: “Yes, I remember, whelp! You dared to call ME a coward, then strike when I was unarmed! Now, I will claim your head as retribution, just as I did the rest of the pack!”

Rengar: “You aim to kill ME? You haven’t the fangs for it!”

The two Kiilash roar and engage each other in a deadly flurry of blades, fangs and claws. Their savagery is at once astonishing and captivating, and you find yourself unable to peel your eyes away.

Gwen: “Oh dear! What should we do? I want to help Mr. Kitty, but the fetter-”

Before Gwen can finish her thought, you find yourself being yanked back suddenly. The sight of the battle grows more and more distant as you are pulled through branches and bramble before unceremoniously falling onto the ground. A chill runs down your spine as an ominous figure looms over you, illuminated by the glow of his lantern.

Thresh: “My, so young… The Sentinels really have fallen from grace, haven’t they?”

“Thresh…”

“The Chain Warden…”

Thresh: “Ah, so you’ve heard of me? Well, no matter. On your feet, child, for we have much to discuss.”

You hurriedly scramble to your feet and prepare to run, only for several bony spires to erupt around you. Everywhere you look, any possible escape route is cut off by a wall of spectral energy.

Thresh: “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But don’t worry… I won’t take your soul. Yet.”

Thresh chuckles and reaches around behind him, pulling from his belt an ornate locket.

Thresh: “I presume you’re looking for this?”

“The fetter!”

“What is that?”

Thresh response 1: “Yes… A fragment of the queen’s soul. It can be yours… For a price.”

Thresh response 2: “Don’t play coy. You know what this is. I’m willing to give it to you… For a price.”

“What do you want?”

“Not interested!”

Thresh: “Oh come now, no need to be so apprehensive. I’ve been watching you closely, Sentinel. Your journey has taken you around Runeterra, and you’ve certain built quite the little army for yourselves, but you know deep down: you are losing this battle.”

You fall silent as Thresh toys with the locket in his hand. He seems to take pleasure in your discomfort.

Thresh: “That’s right. You have lost nearly every battle and acquired only a single fetter for your efforts. In time, the king will storm your headquarters and render that small victory moot. He could do so at any time, really, but he is… Preoccupied at the moment.”

Thresh makes a noise of audible disgust, but refuses to elaborate.

Thresh: “My point is, young Sentinel, that you are running out of time. Luckily for you, I have come to offer you my most humble assistance. Not only will I give you the fetter, but I can even tell you of a means to turn the tides in your favor: a secret weapon to aid you in the battle ahead.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s your angle here?”

Thresh: “What I want is simple, young Sentinel: I want something that was taken from me, and you are going to help me get it back.”

Ixtal Part V

Thresh’s face contorts into a wicked smile as he awaits your answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you lose?”

Thresh: “Oh, you needn’t fret the specifics. All I need you to do is answer a very simple question for me: is it true that your commanding officer is also a fetter? That she harbors a piece of the queen’s soul within her?”

Something deep inside you tells you not to answer, to not confirm Thresh’s suspicions. However…

Thresh: “It’s a simple question, child. A simple yes or no, and I’ll give you all that you need to turn the tides in your favor. The locket. The secret weapon… Just be honest, because I WILL know if you are lying.”

You think back to every encounter you’ve had with the Ruined King thus-far. Demacia, Ionia, Bilgewater… Every time you and your allies have fought Viego, you were completely overwhelmed by his control over undeath and those he bends to his will. You begrudgingly accept that the odds are stacked against you, and you need some manner of miracle to win this battle. If Thresh can offer you even a small advantage…

“Yes, it’s true. Senna is a fetter.”

“Senna has a fragment of the queen’s soul inside of her.”

Thresh: “As I thought… Well then, a deal is a deal.”

Thresh reaches out his hand and surrenders the locket. You snatch it up quickly and place it in your pocket, though your hastiness only amuses Thresh further.

Thresh: “Now then, listen closely: in the Sands of Shurima, there exists a very old and very powerful Sentinel weapon. Legends claim it has the power to restore the dead to life, if certain… Conditions are met. Not undeath, but proper resurrection.”

“Does such a Relic truly exist?”

“This isn’t a lie, is it?”

Thresh: “Who can say? Either way… You won’t have the opportunity to find out!”

Thresh lashes out with his chains, binding you around your neck. You gasp desperately for air as the Chain Warden pulls you closer, cackling madly.

“You promised!”

“We had a deal!”

Thresh: “Indeed, and I kept my end of the bargain. I gave you the fetter and told you of the Shuriman Relic. I never said I would let you leave this place with either!”

You feel your vision blur as Thresh strangles you with your chains. In desperation, you reach into your pocket and feel your fingers brush against something smooth.

Thresh: “Oh, the eternity we shall spend together!”

You pull out the Relicstone fragment Senna gave you and raise it high. Thresh cries out as the light pulses outward, releasing you from your chains. You turn around to see that the spectral walls barring your path have also vanished. You sprint back the way you came as fast as you can, though Thresh’s ominous laughter echoes behind you.

Thresh: “There is no escape!”

As you run, you notice several ghastly figures daring through the jungle above and around you. They seem to be toying with you, even mocking your efforts to reach your allies in the village. Then, one of them lunges from the side, jaws opened wide in preparation to bite into your flesh.

Rengar: “Slow down!”

A bola flies from the shadows and wraps around your assailant. The kiilash ghost cries out in anger as it struggles against its bindings, to no avail.

Gwen: “Rookie! Are you quite alright? We came as fast we could!”

“Gwen! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Rengar! What happened to Ponjaf?”

Gwen (if option 1 is picked): “Oh, I’m quite pleased to see you too! But nevermind that! We must escape from here, quickly!”

Rengar (if option 2 is picked): “Your companion drove him away with her ‘Hallowed Mist.’ Even if death, he is a coward!”

The other kiilash begin to surround you and draw their weapons, but as you and your companions prepare for a fight, an explosion of light blows several of the spectral hunters away. Confused, the kiilash turn to the source of this blast, only to find themselves crushed under the weight of a massive glowing hammer.

Jayce: “Energize!”

Graves: “Ya gotta call out those dumb moves every time!?”

Graves unloads another blast from his gun, blowing away the last of the kiilash wraiths. Then, he turns his weapon on Rengar.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

“Woah, Rengar’s a friend!”

Graves: “Beg your pardon?”

Rengar: “So these are your fellow Sentinels… I request permission to join your pack!”

Gwen: “Everyone, perhaps we should save explanations until we rendezvous with the others!”

Jayce: “Sounds like a plan!”

You hurry back to the outpost ruins, leaving the cries of wraiths far behind you. By the time you arrive, the other Sentinels have already returned.

Lucian: “Rookie! Gwen! Where the hell were you?”

Vayne: “We were just to head out again looking for you. I hope you have a good reason for abandoning your post.”

“We found the fetter.”

“We made a new ally.”

You briefly recap everything that had happened to the Sentinels, up until the encounter with Thresh.

“…So then I was dragged away by wraiths and found the fetter with the ghosts of the kiilash.”

“I saw a wraith carrying the fetter away and chased after it. I narrowly managed to catch it.”

You hold up the locket Thresh gave you, which resonates with the light inside Gwen and Senna.

Senna: “Well I’ll be… I can’t say I approve of you abandoning your post, but I guess a victory is a victory. Fire up the Wayfinder, Rookie, and let’s get back to base.”

You return to Sentinel headquarters feeling a strong sense of unease. You feel bad for lying, but you also feel hesitant to admit having made a bargain with Thresh. Your thoughts are heavy until Gwen catches your attention, emerging from the Sentinel vaults.

Gwen: “Attention everyone! After much hassle and grooming, I present to you, Sentinel Ki- I mean, Sentinel Rengar!”

Rengar: “Let the hunt begin! I will claim the Ruined King’s head for my wall!”

Olaf: “Oh, I like this one!”

Senna: “Let’s take some time to rest and recover, Sentinels! After that, it’s back to work as normal!”

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Ixtal)

Ixtal Part I

You wander through the Sentinel vaults alone, looking over ancient artifacts the Sentinels have gathered over the years. Not much stands out of interest, save for the uncarved Relictsone chunks and the sole fetter you acquired in Zaun. Beyond that, the only thing of note is an old bookshelf filled with dusty volumes and scrolls.

To pass the time until your next mission, you decide to skim through some of these old texts. Most of them turn out to be logs of past Harrowings and descriptions of notable entities within the Black Mist: The Deathsinger, the Shadow of War, and the Chain Warden, to name a few.

One scroll stands out to you, looking slightly older than the others. You open the scroll to find no text, but instead a single depiction of a peculiar-looking Sentinel weapon. Though faded, something about the image stands out to you as significant…

Lucian: “Doin’ some homework, Rookie?”

“WOAH! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Just passing the time, sir.”

Lucian response 1: “Heh.  You’ve still got a lot to learn, Rook. Come on, everyone’s waitin’ for you.”

Lucian response 2: “Well, time’s up. Get to the map room. We’ve got our next assignment.”

You follow Lucian to the map room, where the Sentinels linger stand waiting for your arrival.

Graves: “About time.”

Gwen: “Good morning, Rookie! I trust you’re ready to depart?”

Senna: “He’ll have to be. Our next stop is the Kumungu Jungle. This Mist there is behaving strangely, but there’s a good chance we’ll find a fetter there either way.”

Riven: “I don’t get it. Last I heard, there are barely even any settlements in Kumungu. Noxus has been trying for years to establish a foothold there, but the jungle is just too hostile. How can a fetter wind up there?”

Jayce: “I remember hearing something about a ‘hidden tribe’ attacking Piltovan mining equipment in the jungle lately, so maybe they have something to do with it?”

Lucian: “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got our orders, Sentinels, and we can’t let what happened in Bilgewater happen again. Rookie, let’s get moving before Viego or any of his lackeys get their hands on that fetter.”

“Yessir!”

“Next stop: Kumungu!”

You raise the Wayfinder and let its light wash over you. When the light recedes, you find yourself surrounded by grumbling ruins covered in moss and vines. Barely anything remains of the Sentinel outpost, as it seems to have been mostly reclaimed by the jungle.

Gwen: “Ah… I suppose we won’t be finding any Sentinel allies in this place, then.”

Diana: “I sense powerful magics at work here…”

Shen: “Indeed. As Ionia and Targon are abundant in spiritual and celestial magics, this place brims with the energy of elemental magic. This wild, untamed power must not be taken lightly.”

Graves: “I didn’t understand a word of what you just said, but I sure as hell don’t see any ghosts here.”

Olaf: “Indeed! I sense nothing amiss!”

Riven: “That canopy is so thick that I can barely make out anything in our surroundings. How are we supposed to find the fetter in all this?”

Senna: “I don’t like it, but… It might be better to fan out in comb the area. We’ll split up into groups and head off in different directions. Shen, you go with Olaf and explore north. Diana, Riven, Vayne, you three head south. Graves and Jayce will head east, while Lucian and I head west.”

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“What about me?”

“What about Gwen?”

Senna: “Rookie, you stay here with Gwen. The last thing we want is you and that Wayfinder getting lost in the jungle. Don’t worry, the Hallowed Mist should keep you safe if anything DOES show up, and you’ve still got that Relicstone fragment I gave you.”

Gwen: “Don’t fret Rookie! I’m sure we’ll have a delightful time together!”

Vayne: “What if one of us DOES find something?”

Senna: “Use your weapons to fire a beacon into the air. Everyone, keep your eyes on the sky, and try not to go too far. We’ll meet back up in two hours to debrief.”

With that, you watch as the Sentinels all make their way into the surrounding jungles, leaving you and Gwen by yourselves.

Ixtal Part II

You and Gwen have a seat in the ruins of the Sentinel outpost and chat the time away, mostly discussing mundane things like hobbies or interests. Things are pleasant at first, but you soon find yourself getting thirsty from all the talking.

“I think I need a drink.”

“We should have packed some water.”

Gwen: “Oh dear. You’re thirsty? I’ve never been thirsty before, but I understand that it’s an unpleasant sensation. I’d serve you some tea, but…”

Gwen stands up suddenly and looks around.

Gwen: “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to find some water then! There must be a stream or lake nearby, surely.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get back?”

“Good idea. I’ll grab a quick drink and be right back.”

Gwen response 1: “Not to fret, we shan’t be gone long! Let’s see… I think I hear the faint sound of running water coming from this direction.”

Gwen response 2: “Quite right! We mustn’t keep the others waiting, after-all.”

You follow Gwen through the jungle, making your way north-east from the outpost ruins. The two of you arrive at the base of a small stream, where you quickly kneel down and start to drink. As you do, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The hairs on your neck stand up, but before you can even look around…

Gwen: “Rookie, look out!”

Something suddenly pounces onto your back, pinning you to the ground.

???: “I have you now!”

In an instant, Hallowed needles whiz through the air, but your assailant quickly deflects them with a large dagger.

Gwen: “Bad kitty! Release Rookie now, please!”

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake!”

“I swear I don’t taste very good!”

Rengar: “You think to deceive the great Rengar? Grrr… It is faint, but I smell that same wretched stench upon you, child. The scent of undeath. You know of the monsters stalking my jungles, do you not?”

Gwen: “Oh dear! Mister Kitty, I’m afraid you have the wrong idea! Rookie and myself are Sentinels; we hunt those nasty creatures!”

Rengar: “Ha! Hunt them? You cannot hunt them! I have tried. Fangs. Claws. Blades. The beasts do not fall.”

“You just need the right tools for the job.”

“Uh, we can teach you how to hunt them, if you’ll let us go.”

Rengar seems to mull the matter over for a moment before climbing off of you. You slowly climb to your feet as Gwen rushes to your side, though Rengar looks ready to pounce again at a moment’s notice.

Rengar: “Fine then. Tell me how kill the beasts that cannot be killed!”

Just then, an inhuman scream sounds out from the jungle behind you. You, Gwen and Rengar all turn to see a pack of undead beasts emerging from the trees, their ephemeral eyes focused on Rengar.

Gwen: “Oh dear, where did they come from?”

Rengar: “Hrrng… Perfect. Now, you can demonstrate with action! Show me how to hunt these beasts, humans!”

Gwen: “Rookie, you just stay back! I’ll take care of this!”

Gwen rushes into the fray as the undead beasts charge in kind, leaving you with little choice but to watch…

Ixtal Part III

The beasts cry out as Gwen cuts them apart with scissors, dispelling the Black Mist from their bodies. Her movements are elegant and precise, and within moments she had dispatched the undead beasts around her.

Rengar: “So it is true… But how?”

“Only certain kinds of magic can hurt the undead.”

“We told you: we’re Sentinels. This is what we do.”

Rengar response 1: “Magic… Grr… So be it. If I must learn this magic to hunt the dead, then I shall!”

Rengar response 2: “I see… Then there is little choice. Teach me your ways, Sentinels!”

Gwen: “Oh my! You want to become a Sentinel, Mr. Kitty? Well, we’ll need to speak with our friends about it, but I’m sure they’d welcome you!”

“We could use all the help we can get.”

“Honestly, you’re not the strangest person to join our group.”

Rengar: “So I need the approval of your pack? Fine! Tell me where I may find them.”

You quickly explain the situation to Rengar, detailing everything as precisely as you can.

Rengar: “Hmm… So this ‘Ruined King’ seeks these ‘fetters,’ and he commands the Black Mist? Then to stop the undead, we need only hunt him, yes?”

Gwen: “Quite right, but the more fetters he gets, the stronger he seems to become! That’s why need to find the fetters first!”

Rengar: “I understand! If all that you say is true, then I may know where you will find this fetter.”

“Seriously!?”

“Really? Where?”

Rengar: “The Mist is thick in Kiilash territory… That means the fetter you seek is likely in my home village. Come with me!”

Rengar turns and sprints into the jungle, expecting you to follow. You and Gwen exchange an uncertain look, but with no immediate way to contact your allies, you have little choice but to follow Rengar into the jungle.

Gwen: “I do hope Senna won’t be too cross with us, but surely she would want us to find the fetter before that awful king!”

With Rengar as your guide, you make your way deeper into the jungles. You and Gwen barely manage to keep up, but the Black Mist does indeed grow thicker the further in you go. The screams of wraiths grow louder as well, but Gwen summons a shroud of Hallowed Mist to keep both you and Rengar safe. Even so, you once again feel as though something is watching you from the darkness, keeping just out of sight.

For a moment, you think you hear a faint rattling, but it stops almost as soon as it begins. You dismiss it as your imagination and head deeper still, determined to recover the fetter before the Ruined King arrives.

Ixtal Part IV

You arrive in a village hidden amongst the trees, though you quickly find the place empty and abandoned.

“This is your home, Rengar?”

“Where is everyone?”

Rengar: “I have not been here in many moons. I left the Kiilash behind me long ago and had not planned to return… I do not know what became of them, but it not my concern.”

Gwen: “That’s awful, Mr. Kitty! I haven’t been home in a long time either, but I know I would be quite sad to see it such a state…”

Rengar: “Hmph. It does not matter. Let us claim our trophy and leave before-!”

Suddenly, Rengar grabs you and tosses you aside. A dark shape descends from the tree tops and pounces on Rengar. Metal rings out against metal as the hunter struggles against an older-looking Kiilash with a long gash down his torso. Upon further inspection, you realize that Rengar’s assailant is undead.

???: “So, you finally return! It seems I was right to wait for you here, Rengar!”

Rengar: “Impossible! You died! I killed you myself, Ponjaf!”

Ponjaf: “Yes, I remember, whelp! You dared to call ME a coward, then strike when I was unarmed! Now, I will claim your head as retribution, just as I did the rest of the pack!”

Rengar: “You aim to kill ME? You haven’t the fangs for it!”

The two Kiilash roar and engage each other in a deadly flurry of blades, fangs and claws. Their savagery is at once astonishing and captivating, and you find yourself unable to peel your eyes away.

Gwen: “Oh dear! What should we do? I want to help Mr. Kitty, but the fetter-”

Before Gwen can finish her thought, you find yourself being yanked back suddenly. The sight of the battle grows more and more distant as you are pulled through branches and bramble before unceremoniously falling onto the ground. A chill runs down your spine as an ominous figure looms over you, illuminated by the glow of his lantern.

Thresh: “My, so young… The Sentinels really have fallen from grace, haven’t they?”

“Thresh…”

“The Chain Warden…”

Thresh: “Ah, so you’ve heard of me? Well, no matter. On your feet, child, for we have much to discuss.”

You hurriedly scramble to your feet and prepare to run, only for several bony spires to erupt around you. Everywhere you look, any possible escape route is cut off by a wall of spectral energy.

Thresh: “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But don’t worry… I won’t take your soul. Yet.”

Thresh chuckles and reaches around behind him, pulling from his belt an ornate locket.

Thresh: “I presume you’re looking for this?”

“The fetter!”

“What is that?”

Thresh response 1: “Yes… A fragment of the queen’s soul. It can be yours… For a price.”

Thresh response 2: “Don’t play coy. You know what this is. I’m willing to give it to you… For a price.”

“What do you want?”

“Not interested!”

Thresh: “Oh come now, no need to be so apprehensive. I’ve been watching you closely, Sentinel. Your journey has taken you around Runeterra, and you’ve certain built quite the little army for yourselves, but you know deep down: you are losing this battle.”

You fall silent as Thresh toys with the locket in his hand. He seems to take pleasure in your discomfort.

Thresh: “That’s right. You have lost nearly every battle and acquired only a single fetter for your efforts. In time, the king will storm your headquarters and render that small victory moot. He could do so at any time, really, but he is… Preoccupied at the moment.”

Thresh makes a noise of audible disgust, but refuses to elaborate.

Thresh: “My point is, young Sentinel, that you are running out of time. Luckily for you, I have come to offer you my most humble assistance. Not only will I give you the fetter, but I can even tell you of a means to turn the tides in your favor: a secret weapon to aid you in the battle ahead.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s your angle here?”

Thresh: “What I want is simple, young Sentinel: I want something that was taken from me, and you are going to help me get it back.”

Ixtal Part V

Thresh’s face contorts into a wicked smile as he awaits your answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you lose?”

Thresh: “Oh, you needn’t fret the specifics. All I need you to do is answer a very simple question for me: is it true that your commanding officer is also a fetter? That she harbors a piece of the queen’s soul within her?”

Something deep inside you tells you not to answer, to not confirm Thresh’s suspicions. However…

Thresh: “It’s a simple question, child. A simple yes or no, and I’ll give you all that you need to turn the tides in your favor. The locket. The secret weapon… Just be honest, because I WILL know if you are lying.”

You think back to every encounter you’ve had with the Ruined King thus-far. Demacia, Ionia, Bilgewater… Every time you and your allies have fought Viego, you were completely overwhelmed by his control over undeath and those he bends to his will. You begrudgingly accept that the odds are stacked against you, and you need some manner of miracle to win this battle. If Thresh can offer you even a small advantage…

“Yes, it’s true. Senna is a fetter.”

“Senna has a fragment of the queen’s soul inside of her.”

Thresh: “As I thought… Well then, a deal is a deal.”

Thresh reaches out his hand and surrenders the locket. You snatch it up quickly and place it in your pocket, though your hastiness only amuses Thresh further.

Thresh: “Now then, listen closely: in the Sands of Shurima, there exists a very old and very powerful Sentinel weapon. Legends claim it has the power to restore the dead to life, if certain… Conditions are met. Not undeath, but proper resurrection.”

“Does such a Relic truly exist?”

“This isn’t a lie, is it?”

Thresh: “Who can say? Either way… You won’t have the opportunity to find out!”

Thresh lashes out with his chains, binding you around your neck. You gasp desperately for air as the Chain Warden pulls you closer, cackling madly.

“You promised!”

“We had a deal!”

Thresh: “Indeed, and I kept my end of the bargain. I gave you the fetter and told you of the Shuriman Relic. I never said I would let you leave this place with either!”

You feel your vision blur as Thresh strangles you with your chains. In desperation, you reach into your pocket and feel your fingers brush against something smooth.

Thresh: “Oh, the eternity we shall spend together!”

You pull out the Relicstone fragment Senna gave you and raise it high. Thresh cries out as the light pulses outward, releasing you from your chains. You turn around to see that the spectral walls barring your path have also vanished. You sprint back the way you came as fast as you can, though Thresh’s ominous laughter echoes behind you.

Thresh: “There is no escape!”

As you run, you notice several ghastly figures daring through the jungle above and around you. They seem to be toying with you, even mocking your efforts to reach your allies in the village. Then, one of them lunges from the side, jaws opened wide in preparation to bite into your flesh.

Rengar: “Slow down!”

A bola flies from the shadows and wraps around your assailant. The kiilash ghost cries out in anger as it struggles against its bindings, to no avail.

Gwen: “Rookie! Are you quite alright? We came as fast we could!”

“Gwen! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Rengar! What happened to Ponjaf?”

Gwen (if option 1 is picked): “Oh, I’m quite pleased to see you too! But nevermind that! We must escape from here, quickly!”

Rengar (if option 2 is picked): “Your companion drove him away with her ‘Hallowed Mist.’ Even if death, he is a coward!”

The other kiilash begin to surround you and draw their weapons, but as you and your companions prepare for a fight, an explosion of light blows several of the spectral hunters away. Confused, the kiilash turn to the source of this blast, only to find themselves crushed under the weight of a massive glowing hammer.

Jayce: “Energize!”

Graves: “Ya gotta call out those dumb moves every time!?”

Graves unloads another blast from his gun, blowing away the last of the kiilash wraiths. Then, he turns his weapon on Rengar.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

“Woah, Rengar’s a friend!”

Graves: “Beg your pardon?”

Rengar: “So these are your fellow Sentinels… I request permission to join your pack!”

Gwen: “Everyone, perhaps we should save explanations until we rendezvous with the others!”

Jayce: “Sounds like a plan!”

You hurry back to the outpost ruins, leaving the cries of wraiths far behind you. By the time you arrive, the other Sentinels have already returned.

Lucian: “Rookie! Gwen! Where the hell were you?”

Vayne: “We were just to head out again looking for you. I hope you have a good reason for abandoning your post.”

“We found the fetter.”

“We made a new ally.”

You briefly recap everything that had happened to the Sentinels, up until the encounter with Thresh.

“…So then I was dragged away by wraiths and found the fetter with the ghosts of the kiilash.”

“I saw a wraith carrying the fetter away and chased after it. I narrowly managed to catch it.”

You hold up the locket Thresh gave you, which resonates with the light inside Gwen and Senna.

Senna: “Well I’ll be… I can’t say I approve of you abandoning your post, but I guess a victory is a victory. Fire up the Wayfinder, Rookie, and let’s get back to base.”

You return to Sentinel headquarters feeling a strong sense of unease. You feel bad for lying, but you also feel hesitant to admit having made a bargain with Thresh. Your thoughts are heavy until Gwen catches your attention, emerging from the Sentinel vaults.

Gwen: “Attention everyone! After much hassle and grooming, I present to you, Sentinel Ki- I mean, Sentinel Rengar!”

Rengar: “Let the hunt begin! I will claim the Ruined King’s head for my wall!”

Olaf: “Oh, I like this one!”

Senna: “Let’s take some time to rest and recover, Sentinels! After that, it’s back to work as normal!”