Stop thinking about those who left you behind if you know their reasons were selfish. You will find those more deserving of your love if you just look around the ones that care about you now.
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Stop thinking about those who left you behind if you know their reasons were selfish. You will find those more deserving of your love if you just look around the ones that care about you now.
beginnings.
who was casimir de geloes before he became mordekaiser?
the short answer; nobody.
the long answer; the unwanted bastard son of a fallen nobleman and a lowly barmaid. casimir was always a sullen child, uncared for by his parents though never outright abandoned, and shunned for his unusual size by the other youths his age.
unwelcome in his own home and in the play yard, casimir turned to other means to pass his days. pets feared him and his inability to control his strength. the children of his village hated him, with his dark hair and tanned skin. the only person that didn’t hold resentment or fright towards him was the local blacksmith. at the age of twelve and a height of five foot seven, casimir de geloes informally became a metalworker’s apprentice, a trade where his stature and size were nothing but an asset. the forge was the only place where he excelled -
until he turned fifteen and qualified as an adult, over six feet and still growing.
casimir found that his strength was suddenly an asset, because he now was eligible to participate in war games, in raids on other villages. he forged his own crude armor, he marched on foot beside men on horses, and he found that nearly none could stand against him.
he became obsessed, training day in and day out, trying weapon after weapon. they were all suitable, but he did not like them. he was discontent with the weight of the swords, the spears, the crossbows, and the leather jerkins the other men wore to battle were paltry. and then, one day, casimir was introduced to the mace, rather abruptly, when it crushed his shoulder in a skirmish with the foreign ‘barbarians’ his people tried so desperately to push back.
he was enamored. the ferocity of these people from the hills, their determination, the way they did not quail before him and best of all this weapon. he left with them.
he returned two years later as their warrior-king, a behemoth that had bested all of their strongest fighters, wielding an ensorcelled mace that weighed more that some men. the village of his birth was assimilated in an instant, and with the unique perspective and knowledge that came from a dual upbringing, casimir became the iron tyrant, a conqueror that swept over the lands like an unstoppable tide. clad in heavy iron armor that nothing could so much as scratch, he stood alone in every fight, destroying wave after wave of the enemy as they surged to meet him with a single-minded sort of madness.
true invincibility comes with delusion, after all.
he had a single minded focus on glory, on combat, on proving everyone wrong. he was larger than life in several regards, and brutally clever at the craft of his choosing. clever enough to rule the majority of valoran.
** note that the cultural ideals in this background are subjective to the time period. mordekaiser lived centuries before the runeterran nations and city-states we know of today were established. i avoided naming regions in case riot eventually touches on this in the future, and because they would likely have been renamed several times throughout his un-lifespan as well, since it was quite long. i am basing it somewhat on medieval european culture in terms of age of adulthood (i did knock it upwards a bit) and i do think the weaponry and fighting styles would have been much more primitive. i think that before his region of birth was invaded casimir/mordekaiser would never have encountered a foreign culture and his immediate fixation on the appeal he found in more ‘strong’ ideals at a young age would have been reasonably understandable. he put a lot of stock in proving oneself through battle because at that time fighting and the ability to defend what one claimed as their own was the primary measure of a warrior, which perhaps makes it a bit ironic that noxus would later be the ones to convert his bastion to their use, following similar ideals of strength above all.
“you have to leave.” the words are said with such finality that even the air around them goes cold. being snapped out of the warm embrace and lips that she had been in moments earlier has that effect too. “oh god, he’s home. oh GOD - OH GOD.” the panic is palpable before the loud crashing sound and shout that signals the beginning of a very long breakdown. “go out the window and don’t let him see you.” that’s when the sound of . . . their table ? ( probably ) being thrown about. “he won’t hurt me - okay?”
connection: will they won't they friendships
"you're a really good guy, you know that?" asher looks over at him across the empty bakery, interrupting whatever it was his 'friend' was saying without much of a thought. "i mean it. not many people would come so far out just to hang out with me on a random tuesday because i'm bored." his bakery isn't exactly in the most convenient place - a small town in the middle of no where - and he loves it here but... he'd been missing his friends from back home. after just off handedly mentioning it to the other he'd shown up like this and ansher couldn't be more grateful. "you can crash in my place in the back so you don't have to drive back in the dark later."
must be serious… must not laugh… qui is trying his best to follow those two very simple instructions he had been given but it was increasingly hard to do so as the person he’s supposed to be guarding is being so silly in front of him. at least for now, however, he’s maintaining a mostly neutral look on his features. must be serious…
eden sees it. he sees what's going on. he's not exactly an idiot, or as oblivious as people seem to think he is, but what was the point of saying anything? there really wasn't one. so eden looks away. it didn't matter anyways, none of it had to do with him. instead he does his best to focus on what's going on closer to him, as if he'd seen none of that, and gives a small hum in response to whatever it was that was being said.
he's pointedly trying to do the i'm not talking to you stance, his back to the other as he finishes getting ready. it wasn't like it was anything big but night was still annoyed regardless and he needed a second to calm himself down. settling his usual necklace around his neck night takes a deep breath staring out the window until he feels like he can speak properly this time, "can you not do that again? please?" it had scared him, no matter how silly it was supposed to come across as.