[ There's a flick of disgust across his face, borne from years of working ones own fingers to the bone, of growing up in the mines and the fissures, of stealing and looting, borne from working to be smarter and more adept than anyone else, if just to get out from under the thumb of Piltover's dominance. They had done everything they can, up and to rising up against the enforcers, to being beaten down or killed by them. Silco could lay his eye at Vander's feet for the toxins, but the injury that had opened his eye to the poison in the River Pilt had not been delivered by him, but by them. ]

The residents of a city called Piltover, of what they are over was myself and my city. Thankfully, they're gone, with the rest of my world, thankfully rotting in oblivion. If you're looking for reassurance, though, perhaps you should find someone who... hm, looks reassuring, hm? [ Look at him. Scarred, old, a streak of white through his hair that matched the ripple of scar covered by makeup, that eye... ]

I'm not here to make you feel better, or "join up". I'm here to make the rest of existence pay for what it's exacted. [ From him. ] From us.

[ Nice save. ] You'll have to find your own reason for existing here.