Riven fell, but was saved by the fleet of hoof Fluttershy. However the much larger creature caused her legs to buckle with a strained “meep”. Thankfully, nearly everypony else joined her in lessoning the burden, though they really only needed Applejack, who bore the unconscious woman’s weight with ease and without complaint.
Fluttershy immediately began to identify similarities between ponies and this new race, including pupil dilation and where she might locate her pulse. It took her only a few high-paced attempts to identify the radial artery in her arm, but she decided to forgo the likely fruitless effort of doing the same with her heart. This creature had a lot of torso to cover, after all.
“She needs medical attention immediately,” Fluttershy said through choked breaths. Despite her earlier apprehension at meeting a scary alien from a world beyond, she saw far too many similarities in this being and any other frightened animal. She wouldn’t neglect them, so she certainly wouldn’t neglect her. “Can you heal her?”
Celestia and Luna shared apprehensive glances and then looked down at Cream, who sighed and shook his head. “We would need to know the absolute specifics of ‘her’ anatomy, or else the mere attempt could do more harm than good.”
“Then let’s get ‘er to Ponyville General before ponies start to think Ah’m the one that’s hurt,” Applejack added, braving the sheer amount of blood leaking onto her coat with a priest’s patience.
“If the princesses can’t heal her with magic, what will a run-of-the-mill doctor be able to do?” Rainbow mused, taking a tentative step forward to look at the pallid complexion of their extradimensional guest.
“We can’t just stand here and do nothing!” Fluttershy screamed, tears running freely down her face now. Everypony in attendance agreed with that statement and with enough haste to make up for their previous idleness, rushed to the emergency ward.
“Minions have spawned!”
Riven had been stretching her legs and performing light calisthenics while she stood to the left of her tower. The stone sentry loomed over the entire lane and commanded great respect, despite the fact that it was essentially inanimate and often pitted against gods.
To its right stood her partner, a rather flamboyant (read: obnoxious) man with a Fu Manchu and a feathered vest. In his hands he held a wicked pair of ax-like weapons that he spun and flourished with great ease. Every so often he would look at Riven with a mischievous grin, as if he was hoping she’d compliment his impromptu performance.
Riven rolled her eyes and did her best to ignore him. She hadn’t liked Draven when she was associated with Noxus, and she somehow liked him even less now.
The Exile moved forward in concert with the column of minions. When she was first recruited to the League of Legends, she found it decidedly difficult to strike and kill these tiny beings, likening it to assaulting a harmless child. It wasn’t until after that match that her summoner told her that the minions were completely non-sentient and were no more capable of thought then the wands they wielded.
She adapted for the sake of maintaining her good standing with the League and its million, million fans, but her thoughts were often muddled whenever she cut a minion — or anyone, for that matter — down.
Draven, however, had no problem butchering anything that tromped into his field of view. His reach and finesse with those weapons was truly impressive, but Riven didn’t allow herself to be distracted by his theatrics; clearly, that was his intention from the moment he awoke in the morning. Rather, her amber eyes scanned the lane in front of her, as well as the magically darkened hedges on her right. She saw one of her opponents and assumed the other was close by, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
The first was a slavering mutant known to her as a heartless, brutish monster who experimented on himself and anyone else without conscious or consideration. To everyone else, he was Dr. Mundo. Mundo was a favorite of a great many people, though Riven suspected that was because they either didn’t know about the atrocities he regularly committed or because they were willfully ignorant of it.
Riven slew another minion — Draven executed two more.
The second enemy she would have to contend with made herself known with a puff of purple smoke. It was fitting because her garish entrance matched her bruise-colored skin perfectly. Evelynn appeared next to Riven with such grace that she was completely unaware of her presence until the erotically-dressed vampiress cupped her cheeks and planted an oddly passionate kiss on the corner of Riven’s lips.
“Boo.”
Riven yelped and swung her sword in a wide arc, missing Evelynn entirely as she flipped away and prepared to strike again. She did, however, almost hit Draven, who stumbled back and scowled.
“HEY! Whose side are you on?!”
“Shut up and fight!”
Draven grumbled and engaged Mundo, who had moved to join in on the assault. “No one tellsssssssooooo… DRAY-VEN… what to do.”
Riven struggled to ignore Draven’s palpable ego during that rather presumptuous statement, so she audibly groaned and swiped at a crimson spike that drilled its way up from the ground, then kicked aside another. Evelynn was growing visibly frustrated that her ambush hadn’t resulted in the kill she so desperately lusted after, and Riven never missed a beat.
“Maybe you should have attacked instead of grinding against my hip.”
Evelynn opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. Despite her enigmatic reputation, the Widowmaker had a poor poker face. Her eyes darted to the side, past where Draven and Mundo were exchanging blows. Riven picked up on it even before Evelynn’s cocky smile, but that did little to save her.
“All alone…”
Riven heard that haunting voice the instant her vision began to cloud. It wasn’t the kind of voice that was meant for mortal ears; rather, she heard it like a distant thought in the back of her mind. But the fear it invoked was far more potent than any nightmare.
Riven whirled on her heels just in time to feel Nocturne’s serrated blades sink through either breast. She howled in pain but fought it off, knowing that injuries accrued during a match were harmless. It was little comfort from the very real pain she currently felt, and even less when Evelynn cackled and raked her razor-sharp claws down Riven’s back, shredding flesh and fabric alike.
Her measured health depleted from the coordinated attack. Riven fell to her knees, the grip on her sword loosening. She heard it clatter to the ground and a few other muted sounds as she felt the Nexus reabsorb her soul and prepare to reconstitute her body… but what she felt next was wholly new.
A woman trained around predominantly male soldiers developed a number of defense mechanisms. Among them was the ability to ignore misogynistic insults to the point where her brain wouldn’t even let them register. Another was a sixth-sense for when someone might be attempting to undress her in her sleep or when otherwise helpless.
Riven thus awoke with both fists swinging. A room full of already frantic ponies recoiled initially, but then moved to hold the wild woman down. The white-coated nurse Riven punched was among them, having recovered with impeccable poise, despite the fact that her snout was bleeding quite heavily. Her gauntlet and pauldron had already been removed and discarded, and Riven believed they had been working on her skirt.
But she had suffered enough indignities in her life to allow this to continue. Despite the fact that at least ten ponies were attempting to hold her against the mattress, she began to sit up, her teeth barred and revealing her race’s proclivity for eating meat. When it became apparent that the woman would actually overpower her subjects, Celestia’s horn glowed and Riven was effortlessly forced into a rigid, prone position.
“Please, be still,” Celestia cooed, knowing full well that this alien was scared and confused, so she was far more motherly in her approach than her station would have suggested. “You are critically injured. For your own sake, do not struggle.”
Riven had nearly forgotten about the litany of cuts, bruises, gouges, and fractures afflicting her, and when her adrenalin began to wear off, it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to not scream in agony. Her bravery did not fool the empathetic ponies, however, and as the one with a stethoscope around his neck climbed up onto her bed, the others did their best to soothe her.
“It’s all right. You’re safe here.” The purple one she faintly recalled from before said.
“Shhhh… we won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Whispered a yellow one, who was gently nuzzling her bicep.
“Jus’ relax, now. We’re tryin’ to help ya.”
“I feel you, sister. I hate the hospital too.”
“Try not to think about it, darling. It’ll be over soon.”
The chorus of patient, almost loving assurances had their desired effect. Riven relaxed, enough so that Celestia believed it safe to release her magical bindings. The golden aura subsided and their former captive laid still, save the occasional suck of air to remind everypony that though this woman possessed an impossible amount of determination and fight, she was in an equal amount of pain.
Through all of this, Pinkie said nothing. While she had helped hold Riven down, she offered no condolences. Instead, she stood by the door, a tray of painstakingly crafted cupcakes in hoof. She was shaking with barely-suppressed glee, waiting for the opportunity when she could offer one to her newest friend-to-be.
Cream levitated the doctor over Riven’s bed as his horn dragged a warm-feeling energy across her body. When he was finished, he projected a full-sized x-ray against an inadequately-sized canvas on the far wall.
Aside from the hospital’s staff, only Fluttershy had any real medical knowledge, but it didn’t take a Ph.D for everypony to take one look at Riven’s skeleton and gasp in unison. From the phalanges of her right hand to both tibia, this woman looked like a jigsaw puzzle reassembled by a five year old. The image than shifted to a muscular overlay, revealing tears, holes, and on her left hip, a sizable chunk was flat-out missing.
The doctor shook his head and sighed miserably, which flattened every ear in the room. Every ear but Riven’s of course, but not because she had a different shape than her caretakers did. She saw her injuries just as clearly, but had the added “benefit” of being forced to endure them as well. During her self-imposed exile she traveled the length and breadth of Valoran, treating every scrape and cut she received with the scantest amount of first aid that her military training had provided. By the time she had joined the League, she was confident that she could set bones and treat envenomings. She needed only a passing glance at her condition to begin to make peace with herself.
“I’m going to die,” she said flatly, releasing a surprisingly relaxed breath and doing her best to get comfortable.
“Do not talk like that,” Luna chided, then looked down at the doctor with trepidation. He elaborated on his earlier, less vocal diagnosis. “Her physiology isn’t too dissimilar to our own.” He began to identify various organs using the ever-shifting projection provided by his horn. “Lungs, kidneys, even a four chambered heart, just like us. Which means that I believe I can confidently say that even half of her injuries would be mortal.” He turned and met Riven’s eyes with true sympathy. “She passed that mark a long time ago.”
Fluttershy began to sniffle anew, but did her best to control it in front of the woman she knew nothing about, but she did know the value of piece of mind, no matter how futile. She obtained a sizable wad of gauze from a nearby drawer and pressed it firmly against the most readily-available wound on Riven’s side. She winced but did not protest.
Twilight couldn’t even manage that. She blubbered openly, receiving the comforting shoulder of Applejack. “I-I-It’s my fault… I b-b-brought her here. She wouldn’t be dying if n-not for me.”
Applejack, honest to a fault, heard the protest in the back of her head but promptly ignored it. She couldn’t easily assuage Twilight’s words so she said nothing at all, content to stroke her mane and look up at their bedridden guest with legitimate sadness.
“We can share the blame in this matter, Ms. Sparkle,” Cream chimed in, notably more stoic about the situation but no less apologetic. “I designed the rune. Something I did was the cause for the mishap.”
Luna scoffed at all of this negativity and regained the doctor’s attention. “You said she’s like us. That means you can at the very least try!”
The doctor’s gaze hardened. “Princess, with all due respect, Ponyville General is understaffed and poorly funded. I have patients that I’m certain can make a full recovery with the supplies we possess. If I waste them on this ali—”
“YOU WILL NOT CALL HER THAT!” Luna bellowed, sending both his stethoscope and his toupee sailing across the room. Pinkie, despite her formerly somber expression, caught the floating hairpiece with a quiet “whee!”
“If it’s bits you need, you will have them courtesy of Canterlot’s coffers,” Celestia added. “For now, you will do everything in your power to heal this—” the princess interrupted herself and looked over at their newest arrival. “I apologize for my rudeness. I’ve been talking like you’re not even here.” She galloped over and leaned over the bed, smiling at the woman. “Do you have a name?”
She nodded, though even that minor exertion elicited a labored gasp. “Riven,” she croaked, shutting her eyes and failing to restrain the tear that streaked down her cheek. Fluttershy gently brushed it away. “My name is Riven.”
“Do not worry, Riven. We will do everything in our power to help you.” Luna was beside her sister now, her voice gentle and serene. “Please, try to get some rest.”
“Right then,” the doctor snatched his toupee from Pinkie’s grasp and nodded at his nurse, who prepared the surgical equipment. “Everypony out. This may take awhile.”