Ask/Art/RP blog for League of Legends OC Yeong-Suk Kwan, The Wandering Vagrant. Mun is 18, NSFW allowed. OC friendly, non-canon multiship, canon singleship with @Ionian-storm-chaser. Icon by Skabuki
“Here’s the thing about bounties. They’re like the waves of the sea. Today, what seemed like a tsunami will be a puddle tomorrow…”
After many months of waiting, writing, hesitating and pondering, this is the official prologue to a ten part series on Takumi’s past, character and home, the Goyohan archipelago. Thank you all so much for supporting me and driving me to write this, and I hope the other nine chapters will please you as much as it was a pleasure for me to write them. Likes and reblogs would be appreciated, as I plan to use these stories to help people understand and see who the wandering vagrant is, and to allow people to peer into his history and past in a more active manner, as well as shed light to the new and reworked lore I have made.
Special thanks to @ionian-storm-chaser, my friend, my love, and my inspiration.
“Here’s the thing about bounties. They’re like the waves of the sea. Today, what seemed like a tsunami will be a puddle tomorrow...”
After many months of waiting, writing, hesitating and pondering, this is the official prologue to a ten part series on Takumi’s past, character and home, the Goyohan archipelago. Thank you all so much for supporting me and driving me to write this, and I hope the other nine chapters will please you as much as it was a pleasure for me to write them. Likes and reblogs would be appreciated, as I plan to use these stories to help people understand and see who the wandering vagrant is, and to allow people to peer into his history and past in a more active manner, as well as shed light to the new and reworked lore I have made.
Special thanks to @ionian-storm-chaser, my friend, my love, and my inspiration.
2,335 words long.
5-10 minute read.
Warning: Light gore and violence.
Prologue: Professional
"Is this it?”
A figure would trudge from the dark night’s curtain, raising a hand to paper lanterns that swayed playfully in the seaside breeze, carefully inspecting a tablet nailed to the wall of a large building, rolling his jaw gently in concentration. Grubby fingers traced words across the sign as he scratched his bare chest, another imposing figure walking towards him, garbed in a leather harness that carried an array of knives and flintlock pistols. “Let me see, dumbarse...”
Pushing his colleague aside, he squinted at the board quietly before turning to the dark, nodding towards a figure twelve paces away. “This is the place, Cap.”
A hoarse grunt would linger in the air, following a sinewy, well built Bilgewater native, draped in an open greatcoat, patched with leather and stained by brine. He would grin yellow-palloured teeth, walking between the other men before kicking the door wide, shaking its very hinges. Inside was warmly lit, a wide, spacious hall littered with tables and chairs seemingly woven with branches and twigs, the few patrons turning to see them, save for one sitting at the bar front.
He was different then the rest. Where others wore colourful cloaks of dancing maroons and sky blues, this man was garbed in mossy green and dark tones, a beige scarf hanging from his neck, almost reaching the floor. Yet what caught his attention was his right arm, which ended at his elbow, the sleeve torn short and secured with twine. Beside him, propped up against the stool close by was a lever action rifle, well kept, clean and polished, its surface dancing with patterns of coiling vines and flowers, secured well in a leather holster, lined with fur, several oriental charms of various colours and shapes, as well as two small tablets hanging from its end.
Unabated, the trio would saunter across the room, no whispers exchanged as the clinking of blades, coins and powder horns filled the room, the single man at the bar unmoved by the creaking boards beneath them as finally they stopped directly behind him.
“Takumi Nakamura?”
Wordlessly, the man would turn towards them, angled features calm and serene, twisting scars dancing across his right cheek as earthen eyes flickered between them, a still mouth slowly raising into a smile, chuckling softly as he stood, nodding at them curtly. “Ah, of course! The gentlemen I have been waiting for!”
A cheery demeanour washed over him as he shook all three of their hands vigorously, leaving most confused as he patted a large burlap sack tied to his belt eagerly. “I have been expecting you, my good captain. Shall we?”
“Shall we what?” He grunted, brow creased in slight irritation.
“Well discuss business of course!” Quickly grabbing the rifle that sat beside him, the eastener slipped past the three, moving towards the entrance of a hallway near to the bar. “I’ve booked a private room so we might converse professionally.”
His chin raised itself, scanning the man before waving at his two aides nonchalantly. “And I expect my guards shall be accompanying us?”
“Well of course, there is more then enough room at the table, my dear sir.”
Running a hand through oily, untamed hair, the captain followed him curtly, the two bulky shiphands moving in suit, hands resting gently on decorated dagger pommels and pistol grips as they moved down the ill-lit corridor.
The stranger calmly slid before a door, opening it wide before motioning to the trio politely. “If you please.”
Inside lay little furnishing, a wide, circular table with four chairs neatly placed, two bottles and stacked cups in the centre, the only other adornment being a candle dish, gently flickering in the well-lit room, likely only for decoration more then illumination. One by one, the group filed in, the heavy door finally closing before the stranger left his rifle by the door with a warm smile. “I do believe we have words to exchange, Captain Scarrif.”
With all three men taking seats before the man, he tapped the oaken table lightly with his knuckle. “I assume you have the... Merchandise, on you?”
Nodding oncemore, he unbound the burlap sack from his waist, leaving it on the table with a thud, shuddering the unopened bottles of liquor before removing a crumpled flyer from a satchel on his belt, clearing his throat.
“On behalf of Captain Gregory Scarrif, commander of the Cuttlefish, belonging to the United isles of Bilgewater, the former privateer known as Sykes Ravtel is hereby a wanted man on the grounds of theft, murder and unsanctioned desertion of post for the reward of one hundred and fifty count of any currency of regular use on Runeterra. Additional reward is offered upon the seizure and return of an ivory derringer customised and marked with a serpent upon its grip. This bounty has been officially marked with approval by the Reaver King, Gangplank.”
Roughened hands would grip the heavy bag, dragging its contents towards him as he calmly undid the thick ropes keeping its contents hidden from sight. Finally, the last inch of rope fell slack to the table as he opened the bag, a wicked smirk growing on his lips, much to the delight of his aides. Fingers would find something within, pulling against walnut hair as a head emerged from the bag, jaw slack and eyes half lidded before he cackled, bringing the gristly prize before his visage. “Well hello then, privateer Skyes. Good to see you again!”
The pirate cackled, raising the head triumphantly as the two men jeered in unison, overlooked by a quiet, Takumi, unmoved at their celebrations. “I assume he was once of your crew?”
“Indeed the whoreson was,” he mused, stuffing the head back into its sack before sitting back leisurely a confident grin on his lips. “Picked up the sprat before we left to ‘ere, then jumped ship with a bag of plunder and my own sidearm.”
“Speaking of which... You wouldn’t have come across it, eh son?”
Shaking his head, the bounty hunter sighed quietly. “Unfortunately, my good captain, when I searched his corpse, all I could find was coin and a few baubles. I assume he may have sold your prized weapon for gold to sail home.”
The smile dipped on Scarrif’s face, yet only slightly before he grunted, eyes staring daggers into the half concealed head. “I suppose I should have expected, such a fine and rare weapon would have done a pretty coin,” Leaning back, his eyes would look towards the roof, pondering a moment as he grit his teeth. “A bloody shame, was the first weapon I ever held in me hands too. Well, besides the knife I used to gut that noble arse who had it before me.”
“A nobleman’s arm? I’m surprised it was not yours to begin with, considering your gentlemanly manners~”
A hoarse laugh left him, drawing out softer ones from his companions, the captain thrusting a finger at him. “You’re a funny one, Nakamura. But aye, was but fourteen years when I scored me first blooding, kept the gun beside me all my life after that.”
A raised eyebrow came from him as the bounty hunter shifted towards the bottles at the heart of the table, taking the stack of cups and neatly arranging four in a row before him. “A nobleman at fourteen years? I can certainly say your position is well-deserved, Captain.”
One of the aides beat his hand across the table, leaning forth towards the man with a devious smile. “And well deserved it is! Our captain is one of the greatest to roam these seas!”
Waving at him cheerfully, Scarrif chuckled lowly. “Ah, many a ship and town I had seen burn and pillaged. Once ago, I was even the first mate of Captain Gangplank himself!”
Looking up from his task, Takumi looked at him surprised, stopping for a moment. “Captain Gangplank himself? I don’t suppose you were there when he took the legendary Noxian warship, the Leviathan, as his own?”
“So you’ve heard of it! Surprised an Ionian would care much for the high seas?”
Pulling the cork of the smaller bottle, swilling the drink before his nose to smile thinly at its aroma, he began pouring the clear drink into two of the four cups. “I am no Ionian, my good sir. I come from Goyohan, the islands east of Ionia, near Kashuri,” Nearly tapping the neck of this bottle, he placed it down, returning it to it place and dragging the other towards him. “And as for my knowledge of this, a Noxian deserter I once travelled with regaled me the event.”
Interested, Scarrif leaned closer, raising an eyebrow as he oncemore inhaled the aroma of the drink. “A Noxian? Wouldn’t expect you to be talking to those whoresons.”
“I met him shortly after I arrived here many years ago. We were petty thieves, taking what we needed to get by while the war was going on,” Oncemore tapping the neck of the bottle, he slid it back to the centre of the table. “When I found that Noxians captured would pay a neat sum, I got him blind drunk, and dragged him to the barracks for execution.”
A drawn silence hung over the air for what seemed like hours before all three men burst out laughing, spit and chortled cough leaving them as one of the aides heartily shook Takumi’s shoulder. The other would beat the table loudly, nodding at him in approval. “You’re alright, son! Could almost be a Bilgewater man!”
Chuckling softly, he pushed a glass of clear liquor to Scarrif, and the two others, filled with an amber drink perfumed of molasses to his companions. “I am a professional, and while I’d rather act accordingly...”
“... I must admit, it doesn’t pay as nicely~”
“Acting like a Demacian bootlick gets you one place, beneath the brine!” Another round of merriment followed, joined in by Takumi as they hoisted their glasses, drink spilling onto rough fingers as the bounty hunter nodded gently.
“Tis tradition to drink as the closing of a deal, good Captain. I do hope you would partake in some of my people’s liquor,” Nodding fondly to the aides, he smiled cheerily. “And for your men, I’ve had a strong rum brought in from your own lands.”
All men at the table warmly cheered, refreshing themselves heartily before returning to their conversing, as if four long known friends. Takumi placed his cup down, calmly pouring another drink as the three men talked eagerly, raising the cup to his lips before laying it down oncemore atop the flyer he had read earlier, looking at the captain adjacent to him. “Captain, may I ask something?”
“What’s your question, Nakamura?” He laid back leisurely, crossing his arms against his broad front.
“Have you considered bounty hunting yourself?” His smile had faded, a pondering expression on his lips.
The man scoffed, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Never! Bounty huntin’ is all good and fair before ye get stabbed in the back, or cheated out of yer gold.”
The Goyohani looked at him silently before eyeing the two aides, then smirking lightly as he cupped his chin. leaning his good elbow against the table. “You’ve got a point, Captain...”
“But sometimes, well...”
“...It could certaintly go the other way.”
A retching sound began to echo throughout the room as he smirked, watching Scarrif look to his aides, bile and blood dripping from their chins before they began shaking, one falling back, a clatter of wood and steel as the other crumpled to the table. His eyes scanned the dying men frantically before they shot to Takumi, a gritting his teeth as his hands moved quickly to his belt.
Fingers would be frozen, and his mouth would be agape as the man was already standing, a familiar weapon in his grip. A small pistol, with two barrels, plated in steel, with ivory grips barely visible. The room was silent, save for the gurgling of men coughing up their melting stomachs, a blank expression on his face as the ornate pistol was aimed at Captain Scarrif’s chest. “If I were you, Captain, I would use those hands and put them right where I can see them.”
Slowly, fingers adorned with rings and ink would place themselves flat on the table, a disgusted scowl on his lips as the two stared eachother down silently.
“Bastard.”
“First mate Gregory Scarrif, second in command of Captain Gangplank’s crew and ship, The Dead Pool. By the Empire of Noxus, approved by General Jericho Swain, you are hereby a wanted man for partaking in the capture, murder of crew and theft of the Noxian dreadnought, The Leviathan.”
“What say you in defence?”
A roar left him, almost standing from his seat, barking at the bounty hunter viciously. “WHORESON! YOU’RE AS BAD AS THE PEOPLE WHO INVADED YOUR COUNTRY, YOU BLOODY WENCH!”
His lip would twitch into a growl for a fraction of a second, yet caught to its passive state as he calmly stared down the reaver, pulling back the hammer of his pistol, the cocking gun cutting a tense silence between the pair.
“A Noxian would have gutted you in the streets like a dog, Captain Scarrif.”
Looking the man dead in the eye, he felt a twinge of fear almost touch him, yet kept his finger tight on the trigger.
“A professional looks a man in the eye when he fires.”
One moment, he was before him, like a mad dog growling at rags, wild, rabid, unkempt and a moment away from tearing out his throat. The next, he was sprawled across the floor, a pool of slick, maroon blood pouring from a single hole in his skull.
Another contract completed.
Throwing the gun onto the table, he finally moved to the cup of liquor he had left, downing it in an instant before calmly laying the cup down in the empty room.
- Takumi Nakamura canonised as Alias name, his true name is Yeong-Suk Kwan, a lesser Noblesse of house Kwan, led by his mother.
- His father passed away prior to the invasion, while his mother was a lesser high lady of Goyohan’s nobility.
- Goyohan now officially established, an archipelago to the east of Ionia, was used as a testing ground for Zaunite chemical weapons, then as a base of operations for the Eastern Ionian Theatre. Eventually was absorbed into Ionia, losing its monarchy and noble houses, becoming a province compared to an independent nation.
- Takumi has no ties to Ionia now, is completely independent.
- His mother was assassinated, even thought she presumably perished by chemical attack. Was confirmed when Takumi visited his old home, finding bloodstains and four rusted bullets carrying Ionian designs.
- Met Yoshimi after returning to Goyohan as an Ionian state, was a wanderer, getting into fights and theft before meeting her.
- Takumi is currently situated in Navori, attempting to find the source of these four bullets.
Relationships between muns are viable incase your rude anon has forgotten. I’ve seen another before within this community, even they were getting hate. Someone is jealous, and therefore will find means to express their hatred for whatever reason. Carry on the way it has been for a while, I am certain it will flourish heavily into something better. Even if it didn’t, the point comes back to you anon, why is it your problem again? —A Mun.
//Um…I took all of this as a joke, as did @the-wandering-vagrant mun, so don’t worry new anon, it’s all good.
It has been a while. Either way, I have a few major changes happening soon, and that will restrict me to this blog specifically for a week or maybe two. I will also reblog this on my major accounts so others can see.
Either way, these changes include this:
- Overhauling Takumi’s story, no longer related to Jhin. Merely his rival.
- Introduce Yoshimi in a larger role, also she’s not a Vastayan.
- Takumi will be non-canon multiship, but single shipped canonically with @ionian-storm-chaser
- Introduce Goyohan, an independent archipelago skirting Ionia’s east. Takumi’s home, as well as a proud nation state not affiliated with Ionia until they were eventually absorbed during the war after leadership began vanishing over the isles. Based on Korea.
- Takumi is no longer Ionian, however forged a name and identity as an Ionian. Takumi is also no longer his legitimate name, more an alias.
- Beginning of “Broken Roads”, a multi chapter diary and story of Takumi’s backstory, as well as the rise and fall of Goyohan, and the journey to find the lotus killer.
- Official reboot and reactivation of the wandering vagrant.
A faint smile is on his lips as silent footfalls make themselves towards her, his lips find themselves beside her cheek, a hand curling around her stomach playfully as the scent of exotic wines and tabbaco are on his breath, his lips pressing against hers while fingers already creep upon her gowns. "Hello~"
The woman barely noticed him until it was too late, shivering when his hand traced over her frame. She turned to face him, a gasp silenced by his lips on hers. The kiss was ill-timed, clumsy, yet she didn’t complain nor could she.
A smirk tugged on her lips as she rested her hands on his chest, her lips hovering over his with her eyes closed. The scent of smoke and drink surrounded her, something she had become accustomed to.
‘You know…drink isn’t exactly the best way to spend your gold, Raijin…’
“Perhaps it isn’t,” he mused, his kisses moving down towards her neck, fingers lightly dragging themselves through the folds of her gown. “But you must agree... It’s a far more enjoyable way to...”
Everything had a certain sway to it, a gentle rocking as his body tingled with warmth, pressed up against her back, savouring her scent, her taste. Takumi nibbled her ear for a moment before scarred hands slipped themselves into her clothing, lightly tracing lines across her hidden breast in anticipation, a playful glimmer in his eyes as the room seemed to fade out from his thoughts.
“I think, perhaps you’re a little too sober tonight, my dear.”
Scarred fingers reached for the fire before him, drinking in the warmth from its blossoming incandescence, its radiance reflecting off the sullen walls of the sandstone cave he found himself in. As all nights, few possessions were before him, typhoon, loaded and leaning beside him, a pot of barley tea, and several strips of pork belly, threaded through sticks to roast before the fire. His sighs are low and soft, drowned out by the hissing of his crimson companion.
She had barely escaped with the small amount of treasure and just when she thought she was in the clear, another person showed up. Granted it was her that suddenly ran into the cave, stopped dead in her tracks by there being another human here.
Lux pants, glancing behind her before looking forward once again.
“I-I apologize for the intrusion.” She would have turned to leave, but a twitch of pain through her side makes her lean against the wall with a sharp hiss.
His eyes widen for a moment, pushing himself off the Chalked walls as his fingers brushed over his matchlock, keeping his distance from this newcomer. "Who are you."
Already perceptive, his eyes fell upon her garments. Dark purples and indigo, worn dark and frayed mantle as tomes and elixirs hung from healthier belts and carriers, almost reminding him of himself as her fingers gripped around her waist, pain inked upon her brow as the Ionian rolled his eyes, walking towards her, grabbing her shoulder in an effort to stabilise the woman. "Where did you get that wound?"
A breath, slow and drawn, followed by a trail of hazy smoke, scent of tobacco and citrus lingering in the air as his draught is punctuated with a refreshed sigh. The road, cobbled and barren lay behind him, the vagrant propped against a tree, watching the rolling green sway at the will of the breeze. Half lidded eyes close, to rest and drink in the harmony of the land.
The child was walking down the same trail when he caught the scent of the tobacco and citrus. Curious about the smell he would begin to track it when he would catch up to the older male. Quietly he would study the man as he wondered how he was making such a smell.
Frayed ends of his jacket are caught in the playful dance captivating the blades of grass and blossoming flowers alike, the trail of smoke that coiled like dragons to the cloudy band above him was dragged away on the wind, earning Amber eyes that followed the misty haze depart.
Peace was upon the land.
Takumi sighed, soft and without frustration, pressing his pipe between chapped lips once again to fill his mouth with the taste of aromatic smoke. He was not always one to partake in such actions, his mind gently recalling to his mother playfully chiding the wide-grinned elders of his home, pipes between their gnarled fingers as they sat beneath the sun playing games of dice and card.
And yet, something about the scent, the taste, took him once more to his childhood, before the land was drenched with blood, churning mud of sickly bile and the musky stench of corpses. Something from long ago, when the world was calm, when the land was bright.
Ink upon paper, frayed black marks as horsehair kisses the stained paper he works upon. Golden locks in the wind, eyes of sapphire blue, swirling in incandescence upon a calm visage, bright flowers upon a kimono as silently he looked up from his work, captivated, drinking in every small detail of her. His brush moves on its own, already familiar with the face for a thousand days, yet every sight still somehow refreshing, still exhilarating. "Perfect." he mused, unable to contain a smile.
The woman sat on a smooth stone, Her gaze focused on the valley below, orange light hitting the trees.
She can’t remember on what grounds she agreed to be the vagrant’ s model, but here she was, sitting in a kimono as he got to work.
’ Do you get all your models to do this?’ Her voice was light, humoured from the situation.
"Only the exquisite ones," he replied, swirling his brush in a dish of ink beside him, pressing his wooden board against his knee once again to continue his work. From behind her, the autumn radiance had already begun it's fall to begotten sleep beneath the stars, the heavens palloured with ochre and bands of amber hue as his muse sat silently before the valley, as if nature itself complimented her form, her symmetry. "And I wish to make you a lasting one indeed."
More streaks of black had found themselves on the paper, forming pianists fingers as the vagrant brushed his cheek with a messy Palm, staining his face with a blurred patch of dark on fair skin. "I think that is enough for now," he mused, blowing on his work lightly before placing a circle of weights carefully around the paper as it dried.
