Orianna

Huddled among the various storefronts of Piltover lay the works of the famous artificer Corin Reveck. Renowned for his powerful craft in unnatural arms, Corin’s challenging brass ideas made prosthetics both breathtakingly gorgeous and often preferred to the originals. His child, Orianna, served as his novice-friendly and curious friend. She was a genetic fit to run the shop and bloomed into a competent artisan in her own right.

Orianna had a courageous spirit, but her father, worrying for her security, never let her roam beyond their neighbourhood. Instead, he brought her to the theatre, where dancers, through leaps and pirouettes, told tales of faraway lands. Orianna imagined encouraging these unusual and spectacular places and would hurry home to create precision dancers of her own.

News of trouble in the undercity of Zaun got its way at their workshop. An outburst had broken a chemical line, releasing clouds of toxic gas. Orianna requested they help the sufferers, but Corin denied it. Zaun was far too risky.

So, with as much supply as she could carry, Orianna stole away in the evening and took the hydraulic descender into the bottoms.

The destruction was devastating. Debris packed the streets, and Zaunites drove through the deadly haze, faces covered with little more than oiled rags. Night after night, Orianna fixed respirators and placed esophilters. She even provided her mask to a kid who could barely breathe.

Her father was enraged, but soon after her arrival, Orianna fell gravely unwell. Her lungs were damaged past all possibility of healing. Declining to receive this, Corin flung himself into his most challenging project yet: a fully working set of artificial lungs.

After weeks of restless nights, he developed his impossible task and brought out the operation himself. To stop her from ever trying too far again, the lungs were protected with a unique key Corin kept in his safe.

Orianna yielded to work, and yet the infection proceeded to spread throughout her body. Father and daughter went feverishly to produce new implants and prosthetics, substituting each of her organs they lost. Piece by piece, Orianna’s body was modified from human to automated until only her wholesome heart rested. This lengthy and valuable process cost Corin his estate, making him relocate their business to Zaun, but he was able to protect his daughter’s life.

Constantly, Orianna started to feel detached from who she had been earlier. Old thoughts felt like fantasies. Even her creativity started to leave, and her favourite clockwork dancers grew more like masterfully tuned devices than products of art.

But, still, as the moment appeared to stand still for Orianna, it moved forward for her father.

Long, hard years took its toll on Corin, causing chest spasms that forced him to stop sustained work, and Orianna was obligated to give them to him. She’d grow profoundly skilled at crafting her statuettes, even if she knew only further pleasure in remembering what once caused their creation. The little dancers brought in ample coin and barter but never reasonably provided the one thing she assumed could save her father. For that, she returned to a chem-baron.

Orianna never questioned how the man came by a hextech crystal. She only paid what he claimed. Even so, before she could manage it, the chem-baron returned, asking for a second payment and then a third. When the cash ran out, Orianna understood that his subsequent visit would end in violence. She realized the thing to do with the crystal, still unfinished, too unpolished and robust for a mortal body. She had the relevant solution—she didn’t need her mortal heart anymore, and Corin wanted a heart no one could ever give him.

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