|Posted by Minime69 on April 24, 2014 at 3:35 AM||comments (5)|
"'Tell me a bedtime story, grandma.'
A bitter wind howls outside, whipping falling snow into devil whirls.
'What kind? A tale of the Ice Witch, perhaps?'
The girl crawls into her arms. 'Too scary. Tell me a story about Braum!'
'Ah, Braum!' The old woman smiles. 'There are so many. My grandmother used to tell me of the time Braum protected our village from the great dragon! Or once - this was long ago - he raced down a river of lava! Or -' She pauses; puts a finger to her lips. 'Have I told you how Braum got his shield?'
The girl grins and hops under the covers. The hearth fire snaps, holding off the wind.
'Well. In the mountains above our village lived a man named Braum -'
'I know that!'
'He mostly kept to his farm, tending his sheep and goats, but he was the kindest man anyone had ever met, and he always had a smile on his face and a laugh on his lips.
'Now, one day something terrible happened: a young troll boy around your age - was climbing the mountain and happened on a vault, set into the mountainside, the entrance guarded by a huge stone door with a shard of True Ice at its center. When he opened the door, he couldn't believe his eyes: the vault was filled with gold, jewels - every kind of treasure you could imagine!
'What he didn't know was that the vault was a trap. The Ice Witch had cursed it - and as the troll boy entered, the magical door CLANGED shut behind him and locked him inside! Try as he might, he couldn't get out.
'A passing shepherd heard his cries. Everyone rushed to help, but even the strongest warriors couldn't open the door. The boy's parents were beside themselves; his mother's wails of grief echoed around the mountain. It seemed hopeless.
'And then, to everyone's surprise, they heard a distant laugh.'
'I bet it was Braum!'
'Aren't you clever! Braum had heard their cries and came striding down the mountainside. The villagers told him of the troll boy and the curse. Braum smiled, nodded, turned to the vault, and faced the door. He pushed it. Pulled it. Punched it; kicked it; tried to rip it from its hinges. But the door wouldn't budge.'
'But he's the strongest man ever!'
'It was perplexing,' her grandmother agrees. 'For four days and nights, Braum sat on a boulder, trying to think of a solution. After all, a child's life was at stake.
'Then, as the sun rose on the fifth day, his eyes widened and a broad grin lit up his face. 'If I can't go through the door,' he said, 'then I'll just have to go through -'
The girl thinks; her own eyes widen. '- the mountain!'
'The mountain. Braum headed to the summit and began punching his way straight down, pummeling into the stone, fist after fist, rocks flying in his wake, until he had vanished deep into the mountain.
'As the villagers held their breath, the rock around the door crumbled - and when the dust cleared, they saw Braum standing amidst the treasure, the weak but happy troll boy in his arms.
'I knew he could do it!'
'But before they could celebrate, everything began to rumble and shake: Braum's tunnel had weakened the mountaintop, and now it was caving in! Thinking quickly, Braum grabbed the enchanted door and held it above him like a shield, protecting them as the mountaintop collapsed. When it was over, Braum was amazed: there wasn't a single scratch on the door! Braum knew it was something very special.
'And from that moment on, that magical shield never left Braum's side.'
The girl is sitting upright, beaming with excitement. 'Grandma, tell me another.'
'Tomorrow.' Her grandmother smiles; kisses her forehead; blows out the candle. 'For you need to sleep, and there are many more stories to tell."
|Posted by Minime69 on February 14, 2014 at 3:10 AM||comments (0)|
I pass into the sudden glare. Blink. Blink, blink, blink. My eyes adjust and evaluate the landscape before me.
There's a scurrying. I look down to find a small, white creature standing on its hind legs, sniffing at my body. It intrigues me.
What use are you?
I analyze the creature. A flash of hot magenta light, a dust pile where it was quivering.
Mammalian... nocturnal... impeccable hearing. Incredibly weak. Yet they breed so prodigiously.
"Hm," I mutter to myself. Hopefully there will be more complex things to be found; those fascinate me.
Consume and learn: this is my purpose. The others who travel with me are primitive: kill and eat, kill and eat. I need to gather all available information - harvest any valuable resources.
Eventually, we come upon a destroyed city, save for one pristine tower. It appears to be protected - or intentionally left standing. I deconstruct the composition of the ruins. My analysis suggests this habitat was a place of great magic; I'm not surprised it was a target of such destruction. There is something compelling about the tower. While the others are off scavenging, I enter the citadel.
Cryptic instruments are strewn about. I examine one. Another flash of hot magenta light, another dust pile.
Fascinating: a tool to alter their concept of time.
From the state of the tower, it seems the owner departed only recently. The artifacts left behind have existed in more than one time and place. Some are more complex than others; all are more impressive than anything I have seen on this plane. Clearly, the owner knows things I have not encountered in any of my travels.
I require such knowledge.
Leaving the tower, I find the others closing in on the entrance, ready to destroy it as they have destroyed everything else we have met. They will only get in the way of my goal. There are some things the Void should not consume indiscriminately.
Without warning, I lash out a tentacle, its tip glowing white hot. Lightning arcs through the first creature, knocking it back. Its screams fade as I extend all three limbs, energy crackling between them, scorching the air where the streams meet. The other two run; they know what's coming.
Must they always flee?
I open my eye wide and unleash a beam of energy, following the escaping creatures. They are instantly reduced to ash. "Hmm. Void-native melting point is inconsistent," I note.
But that is of no consequence. The hunger inside me grows. I am ravenous. Insatiable, as never before.
I have glimpsed the ultimate knowledge.
And I will have it.
|Posted by Minime69 on January 18, 2014 at 3:05 AM||comments (0)|
Yasuo is a man of resolve, an agile swordsman who wields the wind itself to cut down his foes. But this once proud warrior has been disgraced by a false accusation and forced into a desperate fight for survival. With the world turned against him, he will do everything in his power to bring the guilty to justice and restore his honor.Once a brilliant pupil at a renowned Ionian sword school, Yasuo was the only student in a generation to master the legendary wind technique. Many believed he was destined to become a great hero. However, his fate was changed forever when Noxus invaded. Yasuo was charged with guarding an Ionian Elder, but, foolishly believing his blade alone could make the difference, left his post to join the fray. By the time he returned, the Elder had been slain.Disgraced, Yasuo willingly turned himself in, prepared to pay for his failure with his life. He was shocked, however, to find himself accused not just of dereliction, but of the murder itself. Though confused and racked with guilt, he knew the assassin would go unpunished if he did not act. Yasuo raised his sword against the school and fought his way free, knowing his treason would turn all of Ionia against him. Now truly alone for the first time in his life, he set out to find the Elder's real killer.Yasuo spent the next several years wandering the land, seeking any clue that might lead him to the murderer. All the while, he was relentlessly hunted by his former allies, continually forced to fight or die. His mission drove him ever forward, until he was tracked down by the one foe he dreaded most – his own brother, Yone.
Bound by a common code of honor, the two warriors bowed and drew their swords. Silently they circled one another under the moonlight. When they finally charged forward, Yone was no match for Yasuo; with a single flash of steel he cut his brother down. Yasuo dropped his weapon and rushed to Yone's side.Overcome with emotion, he demanded to know how his own kin could think him guilty. Yone spoke: “The Elder was killed by a wind technique. Who else could it be?” Understanding swept over Yasuo as he suddenly realized why he had been accused. He professed his innocence once more and begged his brother's forgiveness. Tears streamed down Yasuo's face as his brother passed in his arms.Yasuo buried Yone under the rising sun, but could take no time to mourn. Others would be after him before long. His brother's revelation had given Yasuo newfound purpose; he now had the clue that would lead to the true killer. Swearing an oath, he gathered his belongings and, with one last look at Yone's grave, set out with the wind at his back.The story of a sword is inked in blood.― Yasuo
|Posted by Minime69 on October 9, 2013 at 8:25 AM||comments (0)|
Jinx lives to wreak havoc without a thought for consequence, leaving a trail of mayhem and panic in her wake. A manic and impulsive criminal, she despises nothing more than boredom, and gleefully unleashes her own volatile brand of pandemonium to the one place she finds dullest: Piltover. With an arsenal of deadly toys, she unleashes the brightest explosions and loudest blasts - all the better to shock and surprise the hapless authorities. Always just out of the law's reach, Jinx's favorite game is to toy with Piltover's finest - especially Vi.
Piltover had long been known as the City of Progress, a place where peace and order reigned. That serenity was challenged when a new kind of criminal arrived, the likes of whom had never been seen. This mysterious outlaw unleashed a series of warped and destructive capers that endangered the entire city, and left its people reeling from the worst crime spree in Piltover's history.
As the string of crimes without rhyme or reason hit the city, sightings of the lawbreaker emerged. Though the young woman's origins were a mystery, some saw traces of Piltover hextech in her firearms, while others described the street fashions of Zaun in her dress. Because her arrival always brought trouble with it, those who crossed her path soon gave her a name: Jinx.
Jinx's rampage escalated. Caitlyn - the sheriff of Piltover - responded by declaring a state of emergency and organizing a city-wide manhunt. In typical Jinx fashion, the criminal marked the Piltover treasury, the city's most secure building, with a direct challenge to its most abrasive officer. With a caricature of Vi's face splashed across the treasury's facade, and with a time and date of her supposed raid, Jinx was openly daring the enforcer to stop her from robbing it.
Determined to put the troublemaker behind bars, Vi watched and waited outside the treasury until Jinx's time had finally come. True to her scrawled promise, the smiling menace showed her face. Knowing this was her chance to capture the outlaw, Vi gave chase into the building's interior. She smashed through wall after wall to chase down Jinx, who giggled as she lit up the evacuated treasury with fiery explosions. Vi finally cornered the criminal inside the vault, but Jinx wasn't done just yet. With a maniacal laugh, she fired a barrage of rockets, bringing the entire building down upon them both.
When Vi finally crawled out of the ruins, the battered enforcer found no trace of Jinx. Adding insult to injury, not a single ounce of gold had been taken from the ruined vault. Instead, the criminal left a parting message to her favorite officer of the law - a challenge only now visible through the gaping opening in Piltover's skyline. The lights of the city spelled out a simple taunt: you'll never catch me. As Vi read the message, she heard the distant laughter of her new nemesis, and the city plunged into utter darkness for the very first time.
|Posted by Minime69 on June 28, 2013 at 7:35 AM||comments (0)|
Lucian wields relic weapons imbued with ancient power and stands a stalwart guardian against the undead. His cold conviction never wavers, even in the face of the maddening horrors he destroys beneath his hail of purifying fire. Lucian walks alone on a grim mission: to purge the spirits of those ensnared in undeath, his eternal beloved among them.
Like the twin relic weapons they wielded, Lucian and his wife Senna were carved from the same stone. Together they battled evil in Runeterra for years, bringing light to darkness and purging those taken by corruption. They were beacons of righteousness: Senna’s dedication to their cause never faltered, while Lucian’s kindness and warmth touched the hearts of the many lives they saved. Two parts of one whole, they were devoted and inseparable.
Though Lucian and Senna witnessed terror that would break most warriors, nothing they had seen compared to the horrors wrought by the Shadow Isles. When the spectral denizens of that accursed place began to manifest across Runeterra, Lucian and Senna hunted them down wherever they appeared. It was grim work, but the fearless pair prevailed until one tragic encounter with the soul-collector Thresh. Lucian and Senna had faced such nightmarish undead before, but never one so deviously clever and cruel. As the terrible battle unfolded, Thresh sprung an unexpected ploy. To Lucian's horror, the creature tricked Senna and ensnared her soul, trapping her in a spectral prison. Nothing could bring her back. Senna was lost, and for the first time, Lucian faced his mission alone.
Though the Warden had taken half of Lucian's heart, he had also created the Shadow Isles' most dangerous foe. Lucian became a man of dark determination, one who would stop at nothing to purge the undead from the face of Runeterra. In honor of Senna's memory, he took up her fallen weapon and vowed to see their mission through to the end. Now wielding both relic weapons, Lucian fights to slay the undead and cleanse the souls of the Shadow Isles. He knows that Senna’s soul is lost, but never loses hope that one day he will bring her peace.
"Be grateful. By slaying you now, I spare you an eternity of torment." – Lucian
|Posted by Minime69 on June 27, 2013 at 3:35 AM||comments (0)|
Aatrox is a legendary warrior, one of only five that remain of an ancient race known as the Darkin. He wields his massive blade with grace and poise, slicing through legions in a style that is hypnotic to behold. With each foe felled, Aatrox's seemingly living blade drinks in their blood, empowering him and fueling his brutal, elegant campaign of slaughter.
The earliest tale of Aatrox is as old as recorded history. It tells of a war between two great factions remembered only as the Protectorate and the Magelords. Over time, the Magelords won a series of crushing victories, leaving them on the brink of obliterating their sworn enemy forever. On the day of their final confrontation, the Protectorate army found themselves outnumbered, exhausted, and poorly equipped. They braced for inevitable defeat.
Just when all hope seemed lost, Aatrox appeared among the ranks of the Protectorate. With but a few words, he urged the soldiers to fight to the last before throwing himself into battle. His presence inspired the desperate warriors. At first, they could only watch in awe as this unknown hero cleaved through their enemies, his body and blade moving in unison as if one being. Soon, the warriors found themselves imbued with a potent thirst for battle. They followed Aatrox into the fray, each fighting with the furious strength of ten until they had won a most unlikely victory.
Aatrox vanished after that battle, but the Protectorate army's newfound fury did not. Their surprising triumph led to many more until they were able to finally return home victorious. Their countrymen hailed them as heroes, but though they had saved their entire civilization from destruction, darkness lingered in the mind of each warrior. Something within them had changed. Over time, their memories of battle faded, only to be replaced with a grim revelation: their acts of heroism were, in fact, brutal atrocities committed by their own hands.
Tales like these appear among the myths of many cultures. If they are all to be believed, Aatrox's presence has changed the course of some of the most important wars in history. Though these stories remember him as a savior in dark times, Aatrox's true legacy may be a world filled with conflict and strife.
"Some fight for honor, some fight for glory. It matters only that you fight." - Aatrox
|Posted by Minime69 on June 27, 2013 at 3:35 AM||comments (0)|
Lissandra’s magic twists the pure power of ice into something dark and terrible. With the force of her black ice, she does more than freeze – she impales and crushes those who oppose her. To the terrified denizens of the north, she is known only as “The Ice Witch.” The truth is much more sinister: Lissandra is a corruptor of nature who plots to unleash an ice age on the world.
Centuries ago, Lissandra betrayed her tribe to evil creatures, known as the Frozen Watchers, in return for power. That was the last day that warm blood ran through her veins. With her corrupted tribesmen and the strength of the Watchers, she swept across the land like a terrible blizzard. As her empire spread, the world grew colder and ice choked the land. When the Watchers were defeated by ancient heroes, Lissandra did not lose faith and swore to prepare the world for their return.
Lissandra worked to purge all knowledge of the Watchers from the world. Using magic to take human form, she masqueraded as numerous seers and elders. Over the course of generations, she rewrote the stories of the Freljord, and so the history of its people changed. Today the fragmented retellings of the Watchers are seen as children’s tales. But this deception wasn’t enough – Lissandra also needed an army.
She set her sights on the noble Frostguard tribe. Lissandra knew corrupting the Frostguard would take centuries, and so she launched her greatest deception. She murdered and stole the identity of the Frostguard leader. Then she slowly began to warp the tribe’s proud traditions. When her human form grew old, she faked her own death and then murdered her successor to steal her identity. With each generation, the Frostguard grew more insular, cruel and twisted. Today, the world still sees them as a noble and peaceful tribe that guards against evil creatures like the Ice Witch. In truth, they now serve the witch and long for the glorious return of the Watchers.
Lissandra knows that on that day nations will fall and the world will be reborn in ice.
“Close your eyes and let the cold take you.” - Lissandra
|Posted by Minime69 on March 16, 2013 at 3:55 AM||comments (1)|
Zac is the product of a Zaun experiment to manufacture a hexchem-engineered supersoldier – the Zaun Amorphous Combatant. Combining brute strength with limitless flexibility, he is a versatile juggernaut: a creative fighter who bounces over obstacles and pounds his foes into submission. Though he was created inside a weapons laboratory, Zac was rescued and adopted by two loving parents who raised him to be a kind and friendly child. As the years passed, he grew up to be a fierce hero, sworn to protect the ordinary, everyday people of Zaun.
Long ago, two Zaun scientists developed an organic substance that could withstand extreme conditions, spontaneously alter its biological structure, and generate tremendous amounts of kinetic force. As the scientists, husband and wife, watched the prototype grow from a spoon-sized droplet to a small blob, they noticed that their creation would respond to their presence. It sprung forward when they called and bounced when they sang. The couple began to see more than an experiment; they saw a small child, filled with affection and joy.
After testing the prototype one evening, the scientists placed the blob back in its cage. It slouched and shuddered in the corner, inconsolably sad. At that moment, the couple realized that their beloved creation wished for a free life outside the lab. They were struck by their conscience and could not allow the prototype to be used as a weapon. The husband and wife fled with the young blob, replacing its weapon designation – Zaun Amorphous Combatant – with a proper name: Zac. In a quiet neighborhood far from the cities of Zaun, the scientists raised Zac as their own child.
Zac was always different from the other children. None had his powers of strength and flexibility, so the couple taught him to tell right from wrong and to use his gifts responsibly. Thanks to the care and affection of his loving parents, Zac lived a peaceful, happy childhood.
That childhood ended when the Zaun laboratory finally found Zac. Unable to replicate the formula used to create the amorphous prototype, the laboratory’s staff never stopped searching for the scientists and their experiment. When they tracked down the family, they threatened to tear it apart. The staff abducted Zac’s parents and demanded that the couple assist in his capture and return. Seized by the fear of losing his freedom and his parents, Zac unleashed every ounce of his raw energy and mass for the very first time. He subdued his parents’ captors, sent the laboratory’s workers fleeing, and brought his loved ones home. From then on, Zac vowed to defend all ordinary lives threatened by extraordinary treachery and wickedness. Originally built to destroy, he now protects the innocent and the helpless.
“Even if you don’t have a spine, you still have to stand up for yourself.” -- Zac
|Posted by Minime69 on February 25, 2013 at 4:25 AM||comments (0)|
Quinn and Valor are an elite ranger team. With crossbow and claw, they undertake their nation's most dangerous missions deep within enemy territory, from swift reconnaissance to lethal strikes. The pair’s unbreakable bond is deadly on the battlefield, leaving opponents blind and riddled with arrows long before they realize who they're fighting: not one, but two Demacian legends.
As a young girl, Quinn shared a hunger for adventure with her twin brother. They dreamed of becoming knights, but lived a quiet, humble life in the rural borderlands of Demacia. Together they imagined triumphant battles in faraway lands, seizing glory for their king and slaying foes in the name of Demacian justice. When daydreams alone could no longer satisfy their warriors’ souls, they embarked on daring wilderness adventures in search of true danger. One such quest turned to tragedy when a terrible accident claimed her brother's life. Overcome with grief, Quinn abandoned her dreams of knighthood.
On the anniversary of her loss, Quinn gathered the courage to return to the scene of the tragedy. To her surprise, she found a wounded Demacian eagle at the site of her brother’s death – a rare and beautiful bird long believed extinct. Quinn nursed the fledgling back to health, and as they grew up together, a deep bond formed between the two. She saw the same quality in her newfound friend that had lived within her brother, and so she gave him the name "Valor." The pair found strength in each other, and together they pursued the dream she had once abandoned.
The Demacian army had never seen heroes like Quinn and Valor. Their deadly skills quickly set them apart from their rank-and-file peers, but many still had their doubts. How could a common-born girl, even with such a powerful creature at her side, forego years of military training? Quinn and Valor proved themselves on one critical mission, tracking down a Noxian assassin who had evaded an entire Demacian battalion. When they brought him to justice, they finally earned the admiration and respect of their nation. The two now serve as living, fighting icons of Demacian strength and perseverance. Together, Quinn and Valor will stand against any threat to their beloved home.
"Most soldiers only rely on their weapons. Few truly rely on each other." - Quinn
|Posted by Minime69 on January 13, 2013 at 11:40 AM||comments (0)|
Thresh, is a twisted reaper whose hungry chains ensnare the souls of the living. A moment’s hesitation at the sight of his ghostly visage and there is no escape. He leaves in his wake hollow corpses, their souls ripped loose and trapped in the sickly green light of his lantern. The Chain Warden takes sadistic joy in tormenting his victims, both before and after their deaths. His grim task is never complete, and he stalks the land for ever more resolute spirits to unravel.
Thresh carves careful, deliberate paths through Valoran. He handpicks his targets individually, devoting his full attention to each soul in turn. He isolates and toys with them, gradually eroding their sanity with his twisted, maddening humor. Once Thresh takes an interest in a soul, he does not relent until he possesses it. He then drags those he captures back to the Shadow Isles for an unimaginably dreadful fate. This is his only purpose.
Little is known about the Chain Warden’s past, and many of the details live only in nursery rhymes and campfire tales. They tell of a sadistic jailer from centuries past who took great delight in torturing his wards. Patient and brutal, he used a variety of methods to break his victims’ minds before their bodies succumbed to his grisly designs. Chains were the jailer’s preferred instruments of terror. Their shrill scrape marked his dreadful approach and promised agony to those he visited. His dark reign went unchallenged until his prisoners escaped during a massive riot. They overwhelmed him, and without ceremony or remorse, hanged him from his own chains. Thus began the unlife of the horrible specter known as Thresh, or so the tales go.
Thresh now haunts the land, leaving an aftermath of horror and despair. However, there is a devious purpose behind his dark machinations, and the meager spirits of average men are insufficient. He seeks stronger souls. Only when he has broken the wills of Valoran’s most resilient warriors will he finally have what he needs.
“There are few things as invigorating as taking a mind apart, piece by piece.”―Thresh