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gold

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Janna, the Storm’s Fury 

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Smooth tense legs pressed into the ground, feeling the slick earth under her pads, the smell of dirt, and musky humidity in the air. Her head lifted, the deadly blade on her tail slashing against the air as she twisted her head back toward the Darkin. A little chuff escaped her lips, knowing how the herd sometimes deviated attacks. They had to hunt the weak, the small, or the injured; trying to take down a full-grown healthy beast took guts. "It's quite an ability," Nidalee responded, not sounding concerned by the term of Darkin. In fact, Nidalee didn't know what a Darkin was and simply took it as it was. As Nidalee was a Pakaa, Naafiri was a Darkin.

Moving a few steps closer she allowed a little twitch of her jaw and agreement. It was finding the smallest weakest member to spook. A flash of the eyes, directional control, and the pack could attack. Nidalee shifted and lifted her nose, sniffing the canine. She leaned forward, brushing her body up against Naafiri to scent mark her. A way to ensure that any other Pakaa's who catch her scent would find Nidalee's intermingled in her coat and know for now Naafiri was an ally and not a territorial enemy. Afterward, Nidalee lifted her head, the scent of the metal plates and the human scent waving through her nose. Ears flicked forward when the sharp tension in the air caused the fur to prickle as Nidalee lowered and bolted to follow the hound pack. With the wind behind her and the earth beneath her, Nidalee ran through the jungle with expert skill. No tree hindered her, and her claws dug in and left marks in bark and dirt as she kept up with the sleek pack of blood-red hounds.

She weaved through, lepting across small bodies of water, before weaving through to find the bushes. Her claws retracted, and suddenly the feline turned as silent as the night. she lowered herself down, moving in as golden eyes peered through to see the same scent she had once the metal trap was here. These were her prey as well, this whole camp would burn. Eyes focused on the men, the smell of the stew cooking and the sharp scent of alcohol causing her nose to scrunch up. Her ears went flat against her head as teeth flashed but no sound from her muzzle. These brass bones took and took from her jungle. Each year, it was no different. Their blood would feed the ground and produce more red trees as warnings.

Turning her head, she looked at the smaller man; not dressed like the others. "Our prey lay together in wait," Nidalee hissed in agreement as she bobbed her head toward the three larger ones. The layout of the camp meant they would sleep soon; with heavy bellies and lazy eyes. Their drunken minds would make for quick kills. Jade fangs brushed up against the bush, silent predatorial gaze taking in the entire scene. One of the men was already heading toward the shadows which would give Nidalee the advantage of stealth. A quick kill, silence by the darkness he was heading to. Naafiri worked in quick strides and fast bursts of speed while Nidalee preferred the ambush, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Perhaps it could work in tandem for both of them.

Golden eyes flicked toward Naafiri. "I can easily spook these brass bones, send them fleeing in your direction. If not, their focus will be on me and you can easily strike with your speed," Nidalee responded before slipping from the bushes. Silence weaved around her fur as she climbed up a tree, nails digging in before landing on the thick branches that interwove together in the jungle canopy. She moved with pristine precision, her claws retracted once more to not make a sound. Slow movements allowed her to move around the camp as she found the position she needed.

Taunt legs fleshed, as she shifted her weight left and right, waiting. Golden eyes gleamed in the darkness as the brass bones finally moved underneath her. In a flash of gold her body leapt down and landed on top of the man, her jaws open and snapped around his neck. No leather guard, his collar had been pulled down, exposing his flesh and it took one swift bite and the bone shattered. The body went limp in her jaws, blood coating her muzzle as she growled. A warning, a sign. She wanted to let the sound reverberate against the ground, sending a trickle of fear into the spineless animals on two legs. She dragged the body as she emerged from the shadows, dropping the limp corpse as she lifted her tail and the metal prong hook flashed against the fire.

One single feeling eluded from the feline with bristled fur rising against the humans smaller than her.

Run.

Humans on flight became predictable because prey animals were predictable. Most prey animals fled into thickets when the pressure was on. They sought protection in herds or ran zigzags, all in a desperate bit to throw the predator off their trail. What determined a successful hunt from a failed one, was the ability to keep up with your prey throughout all those tricks and not lose sight of it. Naturally, a good predator also adjusted their hunting strategy to have the best chance of striking a kill. For Naafiri, that especially meant the pack stuck together.

Feeling Nidalee's curious gaze upon her and seeing those flicking ears, Naafiri stretched the main body's leg and fully shook themselves to get any stiffness out of the muscles. They said casually: "A little trick, my kin is famed for. Turns out even in a new body, the power of a Darkin can still be accessed."

"There is strength in a pack", Naafiri said, "There is strength in a herd. Humans aren't wrong to seek companionship. Prey does it far more often than predators do. They do it because it works. But alas like you said, the stench of panic is contagious. All it takes is for one old or young herd member to lose their nerve, and the whole herd falls apart. But then the slow ones have always been easy to catch."

The pack mates lifted their heads and inched closer as Nidalee shifted back into her pelt-covered shape. Normally, a feline would awaken the predator's instinct to chase away the competition, however, now Naafiri moved in closer, tails curled upwards, barely wagging as they sniffed at the cougar, commemorating her scent to memory and also acknowledging her as an honorary pack mate for now.

Naafiri flicked one ear of the main body, taking note of Nidalee's words. They stretched their neck long as their nose scented the air, paws shifting on the muddy soil. Their muzzle could catch more smells than their puny old body ever could have. Each scent told a story of what had scurried, trotted and wandered through these jungles. Most of these animals were prey, birds and the occasional predator, all distinctly familiar with their surroundings.

However, one pungent and rancid smell stuck out as foreign. Like streaks of blood on bark and leaves from a wound, it wound its way through the forest, clunky and uncoordinated. Fear laced each of its marks and the smell made Naafiri's mouth water. The main body's head pushed forward and the pack followed suit. Yellow eyes bore into the thicket ahead of them.

"We got him!"

That was about as much forewarning as Naafiri gave before the pack exploded into a speedy blur of red and silvery grey again. Following Nidalee's advice, the Darkin used the wooden planks and drier parts of the soil to be able to maintain a speed similar to what they could reach in the open desert. The sleek bodies tore through the bushes and whisked between the trees like shadows of red and iron. Their yellow eyes stayed locked upon the trail, which kept leaving bigger and stickier streaks, the stronger it got.

Finally, the pack halted at the entrance to a valley deep in the woods. New smells mingled themselves with the natural ones of the forest. The burning stench of fire, the spicy, smoky stench of grilled meat, that disgusting soap-like stench of alcohol and the general sweat of men, who must have been about all day. From the shelter among the ferns and the shades of huge trees, Naafiri and Nidalee could make out a little camp, the hunters had erected at the belly of the valley.

Naafiri counted four of them. They had gathered around a small campfire, over which in a pot boiled some stew. In it bobbed the decapitated and cut-up bodies of a lizard or two. Around the erected tents, the men had positioned makeshift boxes with a narrow slit along the sides. Out of those boxes came loud roars and shrieks and squawks. Once every while, one of the men would bang a fist against the box, bawling at the critters and beasts to pipe down.

The hunters bore heavy leather garments. Too heavy and stuffy for the moist heat, they were stuck in. Several had unbuttoned down their collars and were scrubbing at their necks with thick, fleshy fingers. Their boots had been heavily reinforced to allow them to trample through the slippery terrain. They had guns. The steel barrels shimmered ominously beside their owner's legs,

"That's him", Naafiri growled, "We recognise his stench."

The Darkin indicated towards a hunter, who was cleaning a flintlock pistol. He was thinner than his comrades and wore lighter garments too. His scarf marked him out as someone from Shurima's dessert regions. He handled the flintlock pistol with the care and slight fear of someone, who used a firearm for the first time. His preferred weapon, two trusty sabres, reflected the spotty sunlight from down there.

He was the only one, who seemed weary and tense as opposed to his laughing and slightly drunken comrades. They must have fed previously. Naafiri knew how rested animals with full bellies acted. They also knew that you never rested near your kill.

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"Zaun is closer to Janna than pretty much anywhere else. After all, she's the one who saved the poor souls Piltover left to die.”

🥹

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Headcanons I want to do

Mel and her animalistic side (Panther side)

Elora being a Zaunite and attaching to Mel

Janna and retribution and other aspects of Zaun

Janna's connection to different characters and how her birds reflect who they are

Nidalee's ancestry and mother being a Vastayashai'rei.

Nidalee's age (she is over 1000+ years old hence the stories and fear passed down in human villages)

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Coven Janna - Legends of Runeterra Exclusive Splash Art

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We need something revolutionary, Elora. Something to put Piltover on the map.

⸻ MEL MEDARDA, Arcane

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Mel & Ambessa Arcane - Episode 8

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Mel & Jayce Arcane - Episode 8

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The creature that wants to kill you will not growl.

The function of a growl is as a warning. It is a communication that violence is available as a tool, but is not preferred. Other outcomes, besides your death, are available and should be considered.

But the creature that wants to kill you will not growl.

If your death is the goal, then growling will only serve as a delay and may result in your escape, which runs counter to the goal. There will be no growl, no warning. There will be no snarl or hiss or bluster. The creature that bares its teeth with the intent to kill only does so to bring closer its fangs to your demise.

The creature that growls does not want to kill you, but will if it must.

I advise you to appreciate the warning. You may not receive another.

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Utaru Lands

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the throne room

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*  ⎯⎯ ᴊᴀɴɴᴀ & ᴍɪss ᴛ 「 @shimmerbeasts 」 ≣ Unprompted Ask = ❝ Soooo, Janna, how do you deal with the whole cannibalism talk and aspect of Zaun? ❞

A soft breeze brushed through the air, teasing and playing with Miss T's hair as Janna floated down to sit on the side of the wall looking over at the curious human. Ever curious, ever inventive. However, Zaun was a place all of its own, yet still, the humans there were as ingenuity as the earlier humans thousands of years ago. She was, she is, she will be.

"Advance civilizations of humans pride themselves on the concept that they are far more civilized than to linger in the primitive state of animalistic natures," Janna spoke, an almost whimsical tone to her voice. There was no threat, she was a breeze, soft and gentle; calm and quiet. Her fingers brushed upward, allowing a breeze to play between her fingers. "For example, Piltover believes they are above such actions, and Noxus would not allow the flesh of weak humans to enter between their teeth. But the truth of the matter is that it is only natural, tell me, when you look at the animal kingdom, what do you see?"

Janna quietly let the question play along with the thoughts of the other. "animals eat other animals, even those of the same species. A lion will eat another lion, or a bird will snatch another bird and eat them. It is natural, normal, and a means of life. For Zaun to implement such nature into their life does not make them primitive savages, it is only a way of life for them. It is not right or wrong, it is survival. Sharks eat sharks, birds eat birds, lions eat lions, monkeys eat monkeys. At the basic level, humans are animals as well, and meat is meat," Janna released the breeze, letting it brush around Miss T as she settled down onto her feet.

"It does not bother me, little one. I have seen much in my life, and Zaun survives as others have as well. It is a way of life. They do not hide from their animal sides; they embrace it. They will not be the first nor will they be the last,"

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meeting.

''what are you?''

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Janna, The Storm's Fury - Legends of Runeterra Splash Art