I've gotten a minor addiction to LoL and I wanted to write something that combines the framework of the old lore with the more current version. Mainly from Yorick's point of view as he discovers that the League exists one day on the Shadow Isles. Should be fun, I hope.
Enjoy!
Another day, another wreck.
The remains of the stoop were strewn across the jagged rocks like many that had come before it, their rotting corpses nearly indistinguishable from the cursed rock. Already the mist spread through the new kill, seeking souls to take into its grasp and mutate.
The crunch of boots on gravel was the only noise besides the crashing of the waves. Even though the sun was at it full grandeur beyond the isles, the only light here was from the glowing crags and the swaying spot of light that accompanied the boots.
"Hmm… a spark."
The voice that broke the air was as deep and rough as the gravel around it, the light glowing brightly and banishing the mist.
Yorick sighed and picked up his spade. The spark was faint and fading, the Isles seeking to claim the last member of the ship. He had to lay the soul to rest lest it suffer further torment.
It may even provide information on the center of the isles this time. Or the outside world, if he felt curious.
It had been quite some time since a ship had wandered so close, after all.
Yorick's steps carried him over the jagged gravel with the ease born of practice, wood creaking as the tide pushed against the lacerated hull. It wasn't that big a ship now that he had a closer look, maybe enough for a crew of twenty.
Ducking under a timber, Yorick held the tears that allowed him to live amongst the mist up, their light shining into the shadows.
A moment later, he heard a gasping moan from his left.
Shifting the light over, Yorick hummed at the sight before him. The poor seaman had been crushed under several large boards and timbers, blood pulling underneath him. If Yorick had to guess, the man had been crushed nearly flat and his organs with him.
"Thank… the gods!" The man gasped, enough life in him to still speak. "Please… help me!"
Yorick was silent but strode towards the man. It would be impossible to bury him without removing the debris. "…Why are you here?"
The man coughed and spat out blood, words weak but angered. "That… bitch of a woman led us here! Told us there was good fishing to the northwest, but all we found were monsters!"
Yorick pushed one of the timbers aside. "I see… where is this woman?"
"Back on the mainland." The man spat again, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the blood loss. "Said she had to talk to an employer and we could shove off."
Yorick nodded and removed another timbre, sighing when he caught sight of another twisted limb. "What are your burial rights?"
The man hacked a laugh. "It that bad, huh? Well, we seamen are given back to the sea that sustains us. Usually a coin or two on the eyes to pay the toll on the other side."
Yorick reached into his pouch and held up two gold coins. They were useless on the Isles, but he kept them for just this occasion. "…You will fade shortly. I will see to your service but know this."
He turned and kneeled, the man finally seeing Yorick's pale skin and glowing eyes. "I do not know what lies beyond… but it is better than this. Go in peace."
The man took another strangled gasp before stilling. Yorick heard the whisper of the spirits welcoming the man's soul, but Yorick returned to his work. "Worry not, one who was called Terius."
"I will make use of your corpse."
-Three Days Later-
With a grunt, Yorick heaved the last body off the cliff, the thud of meat hitting water coming a second later. After a few days' work, he'd successfully buried the seamen in accordance with their traditions, the souls of the crew disappearing with sighs of relief.
Unfortunately, the Mist Walkers he'd made from their remains came up empty handed. The center of the Isles was shrouded in an intense and powerful magic that Yorick could not hope to pierce on his own.
They also found no trace of Yorick's allies on the Isles. Or his enemies. It was like they'd disappeared into thin air.
Yorick took a seat and began to meditate, the Mist Walkers keeping watch.
The new souls… they spoke of a new entity on the mainland. Powerful magicians and summoners coming together to form a judgement entity. A League of Legends. …Unoriginal name.
On the other hand, the League sounded like the perfect place to search out a way to destroy the barrier. A gathering of the world's most powerful magic users was bound to yield something if he could get there.
The problem was just that, getting there.
If I leave, who knows what the curse will do. Yet, all that retained their minds have vanished as well. Mayhaps if I leave most of the Walkers, it will at least provide some semblance of a defense before I return.
Yorick took a deep breath and cast his eyes to the sea.
That, and I am no sailor. The wood here is gnarled and unlikely to be seaworthy, yet I can feel the temptation to search growing. What do you think, friends?
The spirits whispered to his mind, most in favor of seeking out the League while a few simply wished to continue their quest. With the majority in favor, Yorick grunted and slammed his spade to the dirt.
"Maiden, heed my call."
A ghostly gasp and the flow of mist revealed the Maiden, her ghostly eyes staring at him, waiting.
"Gather all the Walkers you can. Leave the ones watching the most important areas but send the others to gather wood."
The Maiden tilted her head. "You… wish to leave us?"
"No," Yorick whispered. "But I must venture forth if the end of this debauchery is to come. My only question is if you will follow me."
The Maiden let out a rasping laugh. "Dear Yorick… we will follow you until the day we claim you. No matter the distance crossed."
Yorick grunted and waved his hand, banishing the Maiden and sending the Walkers scrambling. "Then do what you will."
"Simply know that I will decide what happens, not the mist."
-Three Months Later-
Yorick stood along the shore where he'd found the stoop months earlier, staring at the simple boat of black wood. It was sturdy and seaworthy, the sailors that stayed with him said as much, but Yorick found it a poor construct compared to even the stoop.
"There is nothing for it." He sighed. "Those of you that wish to come, step forth."
A horde of Walkers shambled forward, far too many to fit on the ship.
"Only fifty may come."
The Walkers appeared disappointed, but fifty of the youngest shambled a little closer.
"Then I leave the rest to you. Trent, you will lead these Walkers, do all you can in my absence."
The oldest of the Walkers bowed to his master, a gurgling growl his response. Yorick accepted the goodbye before gesturing to the boat. "Board, and may this journey prove fruitful."
The fifty Walkers scrambled onto the boat, tucking themselves into every nook and cranny they could find. Yorick in turn boarded and took the rudder, the Walkers on the land pushing with all their might and sending the boat into the sea.
Yorick, drawing on the experience of the sailor souls around him, turned the rudder southeast. The Walkers grabbed crude oars and began to row, the cries of those left behind shrieking from the rocks. Yorick even believed that Trent had pulled out a salvaged handkerchief and blew his nose.
Silly thing, that soul. Then again, Brother Trent had been a silly man.
Yorick shook his head and focused on the waves. The sailors whispered to him constantly, guiding his hands and the boat around sudden rises, squalls, and other dangers for the next several days. At one point, Yorick had noticed that the salt water was hazardous to the Walkers, one large splash melting one into a puddle of goo.
There was little he could do about it though. The water did nothing to him, but by the time he spotted land, his Walkers had been reduced to only twenty-eight.
That, and he had a most terrible sunburn from being exposed to its rays for the first time since the Isles had fallen. It was a small mercy that the boat scraped against sand well after the sun had set, a full moon providing light on the desolate shore.
"This is the mainland." Yorick mumbled, eyes casting over the shore. "It is… full of life…"
While it appeared desolate to the naked eye, Yorick could sense every spark of life that resided within the sands. Every soul that haunted this place whispered to him, but the spirits that had chosen to follow him kept them at bay.
Leaping out of the boat, Yorick waved his hand. "Come with me. We must find… a town, if we are to continue."
The words were strange on his tongue, as there were no towns on the Isles. Not anymore. Regardless, the Walkers scrambled out of the boat and began to sniff, Yorick keeping a tight leash on their minds lest they start trying to eat everything.
Taking a deep breath, Yorick grabbed the stern of his boat and dragged it all the way to fresh dirt, a ball of black mist forming in his hands. "There is no turning back now."
"Consume it."
The ball slammed against the boat and the Walkers went mad, teeth and claws tearing into the wood with wild abandon. Yorick watched the carnage until not a scrap of wood remained, the Walkers licking their chops from the meal.
"I sense the greatest spark to the southeast." Yorick mumbled, eyes turning to the woods that lay beyond. "Come but remain out of sight. I don't need you getting caught in a beast's snare."
The Walkers snarled, but swiftly took to the trees. Yorick followed and set off for the spark, eyes taking in the bloom of life that surrounded him for the first time in centuries. The life could sense the taint he carried, though, as every beast he spotted immediately fled.
Humming, Yorick looked at himself and realized he looked very tattered. If he was going to move through this place unmolested, he'd need something to cover himself.
Growling, his eyes caught sight of light in the woods, laughter entering his mind from one of the Walkers that was closer. It looked like a camp, seven men in all, and what looked like a cage.
Three women and two children were in that cage.
Yorick felt his rage boil. Slavers, the worst kind of scum that the Isles ever dealt with. Yorick had laid more slaves to rest than any others, and their stories always drove him to despair.
Now, he could do something about it.
A mental command sent the Walkers scrambling for the camp, their movements silent as the grave. Yorick made sure to approach slowly as well, if only so he'd be close enough to make them feel fear.
It was all they deserved.
Once he was close enough, Yorick tucked the Tears of Life into his tunic, hiding its light from the world. The inane prattle of the slavers was of little use to Yorick, but it sounded like they were bound for a place called Zaun.
Yorick shook his head and gripped his spade, the blade glowing with an unearthly light.
"Destroy them."
The Walkers screeched, descending on the shocked slavers with a demonic fury. Three of the slavers were torn to pieces before they could defend themselves, the blood and gore splattered across the ground, but the other four were able to push the Walkers away and form a circle.
"What the hell are these things?!" One of them cried. "They don't look like those damn Crag Beasts!"
The Walkers growled and circled the four, their steps silent as Yorick moved forward. "What they are is not your concern."
The slavers looked away for a moment, just long enough for the Walkers to leap forward and drag one into the mob. The remaining three closed backs again, eyes whipping about the clearing as their friend was torn to pieces.
Yorick shook his head and gathered a ball of mist, an under-hand throw sending it straight into one of the slavers. The mist began to eat into his flesh and spread to the other three, their screams soon drowned by the thud of boots. Yorick entered the clearing and frowned.
"You are not worthy of a proper burial, but I will ask all the same. What are your rights?"
The slavers continued to scream, making Yorick sigh. Rather than ask again, he picked up his spade and advanced, the blade shooting forth and impaling one of them. Yorick yanked the spade out, the blade stained crimson, before whirling it around and decapitating the next one.
Sighing, Yorick channeled power through the blade again and raised the spade high. "Do not worry…"
The spade came down and split the last slaver in twain.
"I will make use of your corpses."
With that business done, Yorick waved his hand and watched as the corpses contorted before seven new mist walkers burst from the remains, the flesh turning black and brittle.
A whimper drew his attention and Yorick turned to find the slaves huddled against one side of the cage, clearly frightened. Another wave of his hand sent the Walkers back into the trees, Yorick striding over and kneeling before the cage. These humans were much smaller than he remembered, but he supposed that was the passage of time. "Are you unharmed?"
The women began to scream, and the children began to wail. Something about necromancy and devils from what Yorick could tell. Shaking his head, Yorick took the lock and crushed it in his grip, the cage door swinging open with a creak. "Go, to wherever you call home. The Walkers will not follow you, nor will I."
He stepped aside to prove his point, entering the forest a moment later. He stayed hidden though, waiting for the freed slaves to tentatively exit the cage before they sprinted the opposite way Yorick left.
After ordering one of the Walkers to see them to the forest edge, Yorick continued his journey.
Three days passed in the forest, Yorick slowly brining his Walkers back to full strength as fool-hardy beasts attempted to attack him. After their blood stained the earth, Yorick began to fill his time by making observations of the flora and fauna. It was amusing to hear the spirits and what they thought of this new world.
Especially the older, more cantankerous ones.
Regardless, Yorick finally came upon a town the night of the third day, the light of torches brighter than anything Yorick had yet seen. It appeared to bear a banner that had a blue background on which a white sword with wings sat.
The spirits whispered the name of that banner. "Demacia, huh? So, I am within the borders of a city-state then. Thank you, friends."
Pulling a cloak, he'd made out of a bear's hide around himself, Yorick began to descend the hill he found himself on. The Walkers would be… unwelcome here, so Yorick ordered them to burrow and follow underground.
By the looks of it, the town had a simple wall of logs, apparently not wealthy enough to afford more permanent stone fortifications. Even then, Yorick could make out the shining armor of soldiers upon the walls and by the main gate. Taking a deep breath, Yorick struck a spark and held up the torch he'd made the night before, the soldiers scrambling at the sight of light.
It was amusing to see what were supposed to be disciplined men panic.
Stalking forward, Yorick had to hold in a grin at the pale faces of the gate guards, both boys no older than sixteen. "May I have passage this night? It grows cold."
The guards gulped, one taking the lead. "T-the gates are closed, sir. We will not be opening them until t-tomorrow."
Yorick hummed and leaned on his spade, looking down on the much shorter boy. "I see… are you sure a simple gravedigger cannot be admitted? All it would take was to open the gate a smidge and I'll be on my way."
The other guard's voice was a little steadier, training kicking in. "I'm sorry, sir, but those are our orders. We are being inspected for the next few days and cannot break any rules."
Yorick sighed and shook his head. "Very well then. Would it be ok if I set up a small camp next to the gate? I swear to be no trouble."
The guards looked at each other, clearly conflicted, before the first one sighed. "That, we can allow. Just know we'll be watching you at all times."
Yorick shrugged and strode away, sitting cross-legged and holding his hands before the Tears. The torch was forgotten and allowed to burn away, Yorick's meditation deep enough to ignore everything except the spirits who kept him appraised of what was going on.
Apparently, gossip was already spreading about him. By the sounds of it, the hide he wore was from a particularly vicious species of bear that was difficult to take down and his spade was also a topic of discussion.
But, rather than that, Yorick focused on a trio of sparks in the town that shined brighter than any others. They were concentrated towards the center of town, a mayor's hall if the spirits were correct, and Yorick had a feeling he'd soon meet them.
Or now, considering the sun was rising. Yorick stood with a groan, and went back to the gate, spade entering the ground. "Now may I pass?"
The guards nodded, relaxed from seeing him do nothing but meditate. "If you'll be staying the next few days, the inn's at the square. Has a green dragon on the sign, can't miss it."
Yorick nodded and strode through once the gate opened. His entrance was met with immediate whispers from the populace, as he expected given his cloak and size, but no one bothered him.
It was an experience learning to get through crowds again, though. He'd forgotten after being alone for so long.
Regardless, he entered the square to find several groups of soldiers standing at attention, a tall man in bulky armor with a jeweled sword speaking to them from the steps of the mayor's hall. Yorick also spotted a young blonde woman that had an aura of boredom around her and a short, blue creature that the spirits called a Yordle.
Recognizing their sparks as the ones he'd seen the night before, Yorick did his best to look inconspicuous. While he didn't need to eat, drink, or sleep, it didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to trying actual food.
Rotting air wasn't exactly exciting after enough time had passed.
Spotting the sign, Yorick pushed the door opened to a silent dining room. Everyone was staring at him, even as he stooped through the doorway and made his way to the bar.
The hostess stared at him. "Can I, uh, help you sir?"
Yorick nodded, face hidden in shadow. "I require food and a room for tonight. How much?"
It was strange to ask that question, but Yorick had the spirits feeding him hints and proper lines the entire time. It was how he'd been able to speak the local language in the first place.
"A meal's ten copper." The hostess answered, relaxing at the mundane answer. "A room's a silver per night. Considering your… stature, you'll need a big bed."
Yorick shook his head. "Nay, it will be fine. I will take the meal first, if you don't mind."
He reached into a pouch on his side and pulled out a coin, the metal glowing yellow. "I assume this will cover it?"
The woman gaped at the coin, almost dropping it when Yorick placed it in her hand. "I will take whatever you recommend… and keep the change."
The hostess bowed and scrambled into the back, Yorick taking a seat at an isolated table in the corner of the room. He could hear everyone whispering about him and feel their eyes on him, but he didn't care.
They could believe whatever they wanted about him, it was no issue.
Leaning against the chair, Yorick propped his spade against the wall and settled in to wait. He could smell the food already, but the growls of the Walkers told him they'd want some.
Seek out their refuse pile. They're bound to throw your favorites in there but do so only under darkness.
Mental growls showed their compliance, but Yorick was distracted by something else.
Namely the blonde woman that had taken a seat across from him. Blue tunic and pants, gold and silver armor, what looked like a sword at her waist.
It was the woman he'd seen outside. "…Can I help you?"
The woman smiled, the spark of life showing clear in her face. "You're new here, I can tell. No one else I know can take on a bear like that besides Poppy and my brother."
Yorick grunted and pulled the cloak further over his head. "What does it matter to you? You're obviously someone important, too important to muck about a common inn."
"The name's Luxanna." The woman answered, smile still in place. "Though everyone calls me Lux. I saw you walking through the square earlier and that cloak caught my interest."
Yorick sighed and shook his head. "I don't see why you'd come to me just for that. Do you not have duties?"
Lux shrugged as a steaming plate of steak and greens was placed before Yorick. "What about you? I had to get away from my brother's speech, but you don't look busy."
"My duties are to the dead." Yorick grunted, scowling at the tiny utensils he'd been given. "I'm a gravedigger, and unless you have a body to bury, I'm not obligated to do anything."
Lux frowned at him. "Well, that explains the spade. But, what's a gravedigger doing here? The last wyvern attack was further south."
Yorick sighed and simply grabbed the steak, tearing a chunk out of it with his teeth. It was tasty, which for Yorick was practical ambrosia, but he had a bewildered woman waiting on him. "I came from the northwest coast. I'm looking for… information."
Before Lux could ask the next question, the door slammed open and the little Yordle from earlier flew in. "Lux, we got Crag Beasts! There's at least six of them heading for the gate!"
Lux shot out of her seat and gave Yorick a hurried goodbye before following the Yordle out the door. Yorick watched them go, calmly chewing on another bite as the other patrons ran about.
Crag Beasts? Do they mean that strange grey thing I ran into two days ago? I wonder if the herd smelled its blood on me and came for revenge.
If they had, then Yorick had only one option. Scarfing down the rest of his plate, Yorick grabbed his spade and jogged for the gate, ignoring the scrambling soldiers and townsfolk. His bulk was enough to push the smaller people aside, but Yorick found his way blocked just before the gate.
It was the man from earlier. "Halt, turn back and make for the Mayor's Hall! We'll deal with these beasts."
Yorick shook his head. "I can defend myself, Sir Garen. Besides… these beasts seek revenge for their fallen, who's blood stains my hand. It is only right I defend this place."
Before Garen could process how the large man knew his name, Yorick pushed him aside and jogged through the gates, ignoring Garen's shouts to stop and Lux's calls of surprise. The Yordle was out there with some troops, a hammer far larger than her in her grip. "Who are you?"
Yorick jogged past her too. He could already see the Crag Beasts charging their way, the grey hides rippling with muscle and tusks shining in the bright sun. Yorick paused after he was far enough from the gate and waved his hand. "Come, tear the ground asunder and feast."
Faint vibrations marked the passage of the Walkers, the ghouls burrowing past the first four beasts. Once under the last two, the Walkers burst from the ground and sank their teeth into the beasts' hides.
The latter two screeched in pain and fury, even as the Walkers dragged them into the pit they'd created. The first four pulled off their assault, intent on helping their herd-mates, but Yorick gathered more mist in hand and tossed it.
The ball fell over the leading beast, mist spreading out and eating at its flesh. With the beasts thrown into confusion, Yorick jogged forward again and slammed his spade against the ground. "Behold the Maiden, she comes for you!"
The Maiden screeched into existence, spectral energy reaching out to one of the unharmed beasts. It screamed in alarm when the energy hit it, the waves tearing at its very soul. The last, seeing its compatriots either dead or dying, turned and charged for Yorick.
Yorick held his ground, even as he heard the rumble of boots behind him to go with the thud of the beast's paws. A moment later, it slammed into him, only for Yorick to barely skid back a few feet, the beast's snout held squarely in his hand.
With a hard grip, Yorick broke its snout, sending the beast into convulsions. Two strikes with his spade rendered it hamstrung and a final blow split its skull, gore painting the ground and Yorick.
Sighing, Yorick went to the whimpering beast that he'd thrown the mist at, it's hide little more than rotting flesh. "Forgive me, brave one. Know that your family shall be reunited in the beyond."
He raised his spade and ended its suffering.
With his work done, Yorick waved his hand and called forth another six Walkers, the corpses shriveling into husks. The sound of drawn steel made Yorick turn to find several dozen soldiers and the three bright sparks standing at the ready. "Put away your weapons, I mean no harm upon you or the villagers."
"That is the mist of the Shadow Isles!" Garen shouted, blade bared and glowing with righteous might. "What are you doing here, abomination?"
Yorick narrowed his eyes. "Despite what you may think, I am not among the dead. I seek to return the Isles to their original state, and it is for that reason I left them."
"Likely story," the Yordle growled. "How the hell do you explain getting here then? The Isles are near Bilgewater, not Demacia's northwest!"
Yorick scowled. "I sailed to the southeast from the Isles, following the words of a survivor I found amongst a shipwreck. The mist is strange, it must have taken me here."
Lux was the only one that appeared to be considering his words. "Hey, Garon, he seems too sane to be like those nuts at the Institute. I don't deny the curse, but he took down six Crag Beasts by himself."
That seemed to calm Garon's zeal. "True enough… very well, I will not attack, but you must surrender yourself to our custody! I have a feeling there'll be people who want to meet you."
Yorick shrugged and waved his hand, the rest of his Walkers bursting from the ground in a perfect circle around the soldiers. "Forgive the encirclement, but I had to be careful. Simply know that my Walkers come with me no matter what, that is my only requirement."
The Yordle appeared unnerved by the snarling ghouls, but Yorick's next words calmed her. "They are under my direct command. Upon the Isles, they may do as they wish, but I've asked their cooperation while on the mainland."
Garen looked like he didn't enjoy making that concession, but a shared glance with his compatriots made him nod. "Very well but know that they will be put down if they attack."
Yorick nodded and placed his spade across his back. "Then lead the way, Garen Crownguard."
Garen grit his teeth but turned and barked at the soldiers to pull back. As they did so, Lux walked up to Yorick. "How'd you know his name? I never told you."
"The spirits say many things," Yorick mumbled. "And this land is rife with them. The Yordle is named Poppy and you are Luxanna Crownguard. Tell me, have you informed your brother of your true abilities?"
Lux stiffened, gaze flicking about before glaring at Yorick. "Do not mention that in public ever again! My family would turn on me if they learned the truth!"
Yorick stared at her before starting for the town, the Walkers following. "I fear you give them too little credit."
"At the very least, your brother would never betray you."
-Night-
Yorick's words had apparently shaken Lux quite a bit. The woman had been quiet, which even Yorick could tell was strange, the entire day and been following orders without question or complaint.
Frankly it had her brother quite worried.
"What did you say to her?"
Yorick looked up from the simple cot he'd been given. It was little surprise he'd been placed in a cell, but it amused him to see the guards attempt to stuff the Walkers into two cells. The souls simply started acting silly as they wished to provoke the stoic soldiers.
Oh, to be young.
"My words to her are of no concern to you." Yorick grumbled, sharpening his spade. "Besides, I thought a consummate soldier would appreciate her orderly demeanor."
Garen banged on the cell bars, making Yorick look at him. "That is exactly why I'm concerned! Luxanna may follow orders, but I must shout her down to do it and bear her tease the entire way! Having her demure is a sign of the apocalypse!"
Yorick let out a dark chuckle. "Truly? Then maybe my mission will soon be at an end."
Garen growled. "Answer me! As both her commander and her brother, I must help! It is my duty!"
"Duty," Yorick grumbled. "Is that so? Tell me, Garen Crownguard, what is more important to you, duty or family?"
Garen's answer was instant. "Duty, and my family understands that."
Yorick smiled grimly. "Then you and I are the same. My duty and my cause are to end the Shadow Isles, to return the world to where the dead die peacefully and the living live. I have committed much horror in pursuing that goal, heard the wails of the dead as I raised their flesh. Have you done such horrors in the name of the cause?"
"Would you follow it, even if your own sister became a casualty?"
That question rendered Garen mute.
Yorick felt pity for the man. "Committing oneself to a cause is noble, but it is a lonely road. If you would hear the advice of one walking the earth alone for far too long, hold that which is dear close. You never know when it will be snatched from you and all that will be left is a shell pursuing a goal for no other reason than to make it worth the suffering."
Yorick went back to his spade. "And even then, who's to say you will find if fulfilling?"
Garen didn't speak again, Yorick scraping his spade a few more times as Garen left. Then, he sighed. "Go and see what comes of my words. Be discreet."
The sound of moving earth just barely reached his ears, one of his Walkers tunneling through a small gap and into the wall. Yorick closed his eyes and felt his vision go to the Walker, seeing nothing but darkness for a moment before light bloomed.
The Walker was keeping to the rafters, but Yorick was able to focus its senses into hearing what was below. Garen appeared to be thinking on something and he was walking towards the soldiers' quarters.
The Walker followed as well, ignoring the drinking contest Poppy had gotten into. Once they were in the quarters, Yorick watched as Garen made his way to one of the doors and knocked. "Luxanna, I need to speak with you."
"I told you to call me Lux." Came Lux's muffled reply. "Besides, what could it be? I did everything I was assigned already."
Yorick hummed, seeing Garen work his jaw in contemplation. Would the man speak to his sister? They didn't seem particularly close from what Yorick had seen of them, but who knew with humans?
"It's important." Garen sighed, rubbing his temple. "Please, I simply need a few minutes."
Silence stretched for a moment before the door was unlatched and opened. The Walker seized the opportunity and tunneled through the wall over the door, making sure to be quiet and keep debris from falling to the floor.
Once in the wall, it forced its head through a crack and almost screeched at the bombardment of light that the room held. Thankfully, it could still hear just fine, but that was a shock.
"What is it brother?" Lux asked after taking a seat on her cot. "You're usually too busy practicing to talk."
Garen leaned against the wall and sighed. "Luxanna… no, Lux. I've wanted to ask you something for some time, but I was convinced it wasn't true."
Lux's eyes widened. If Yorick had to guess, this was the first time her brother had called her that. "…What's this about?"
Garen looked Lux dead in the eyes. "You don't actually use that sword, do you?"
"You have magic."
The room was silent, Yorick and the Walker waiting to see if either side would make a move.
"…Yes."
It was a whisper, but that was Lux's voice. Yorick didn't know the full story, but the spirits were wailing loudly at that confession. Apparently, magic was heavily frowned on in Demacia.
How ignorant.
In either case, Garen and his sister remained silent for a time. At least, until Garen pushed off from the wall. "You can control it? Used it in service of the realm?"
Lux nodded twice, looking to the floor as if awaiting an execution.
Garen strode forward and looked at her. All was silent again before Garen reached out and ruffled her hair. "Then there is no reason to hide it. I am… disappointed that you did not believe I would take it well, but it's my own fault for so decrying it in front of you. I beg forgiveness."
Lux started shaking, sniffles in the air. "…That's not… what I was expecting at all… I thought… you'd kill me…"
Garen smiled for the first time Yorick had seen and took a seat next to his sister. "I will kill mages who use their magic for horrors and evil, Lux, but that's not you. I may not have been the best brother in our youth, but I do care, and I do know you. There's a big difference between a Noxian sorcerer and you, and I'm not so blind as to not realize it."
Lux's sniffles soon turned to sobs, her hands hiding her face. Garen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back, letting her work it out.
Yorick, satisfied, ordered the Walker to withdraw and return to the cell.
It did what was left of his heart good to heal a soul this time.
-Morning-
When Yorick saw Lux that day, the woman was more radiant than ever. "Control your magic, lest it burn the walls."
Lux giggled, and the glow dimmed. "Sorry, I just wanted to thank you. You seem like a grump, but there's something soft in there."
"I simply do not wish the young to repeat my mistakes." Yorick grumbled. "It was only yesterday I remembered laughter, hearing the children play as once was on the Isles. I have done much horror to forget that sound… yet I still wish to do what is right, if I can."
Lux nodded and held out her hand, a clear gem in her palm. "Well, no matter the reason, I still want to say thanks. Take this, I think you'll like it."
Yorick frowned but reached through the bars and took the gem. "…What is this?"
"A scrying gem." Lux chirped. "I use them to keep in contact with my superiors on missions. It can cross all of Valoran and still be crystal clear."
Her smile softened. "I don't know why, but you just seem lonely. I was hoping that you'd chat me up occasionally, be friends and all that. It's the least I can do."
Yorick stared at her but placed the gem into his sack. "You earn your title, Lady of Luminosity. I'm reminded that there is good in this world by your actions."
He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "And hopeless naivety too. But, morbidity aside, you are kind. Were there more of you, the Shadow Isles may never have come to be."
Mist gathered in his hand. "And I would never have had to accept its curse."
Lux frowned but could tell he would speak no more. "Well, we'll be leaving soon. Have to make High Silvermere in a few days, so I hope you don't mind riding."
Yorick stood and picked up his spade. "I will walk. My body is cursed with undeath, it is why I have been careful not to touch anyone. If I sit upon a horse, it shall become a specter. Besides, I'm faster than I look and do not tire."
Lux looked unsure but shrugged. "Alright, if you say so. You'll be with Poppy, she can smack the hell out of anything that comes at us."
Yorick grunted. He hadn't seen much of the Yordle, but perhaps he could gain some insight on the road.
The more allies he could find, the better. That was his goal for now, only fortune allowing his conscious to align with it.
-Four Days Later-
Yorick had never met someone so self-deprecating in all his unnatural life and he'd met the spirits of comedians.
This Poppy girl had deflected every word of praise or even grudging encouragement with either a humble word or outright laughter. Even when Yorick had tried to be helpful and point out that the hammer would crush anyone save its champion, Poppy had simply countered that she'd been trusted to find said champion. That's why it weighed nothing in her grip.
Yorick simply stopped trying. If the girl couldn't see what was before her, who was he to argue?
Beyond that, they traveled through several towns on their trek, all under cover of night. Yorick may have proved himself to the party, but that didn't mean his Walkers would be welcomed.
As such, when they arrived High Silvermere, Yorick kept them underground.
"So much… white." Yorick muttered when he got a good look at the city. The entire city appeared to be formed from marble and it looked like a monument stood on the opposite side that appeared even whiter and outlined in gold.
"Oh damn." Poppy muttered, her lantern clanging as they pulled to a stop. "Galio's in."
Yorick didn't have time to process that before the monument began to… move.
"Oh, damn indeed."
Yorick's flippant mutter was silenced by the rumble of stone as the monument leapt into the air and came crashing down onto the land before them, great wings of gold framing a sculpted body a hundred-foot tall.
"Garen, Lux, Poppy." The statue greeted. "Who's the tattered monk?"
Yorick continued to stare, wondering as to how such a golem existed. While he was doing that, Garen called to the golem. "This is Yorick, a gravedigger. He helped defend one of the border villages from a Crag Beast attack and has accompanied us this far."
Galio, for this had to be the one Poppy had mentioned, leaned down to get a better look. "Really? …He's got magic around him… Shadow Isle!"
A great fist reared back, but Garen shouted for Galio to stop. To Yorick's disbelief, it did.
"He is alive, Galio." Garen called to the frozen golem. "This man came to the shore and killed both slavers and Crag Beasts. His curse is a means to worry, but do you think we'd have brought him if we were not confident?"
Galio's face cracked into a grimace, the golem relaxing its fist. "Yeah… good point. Well, where's he going? The sooner he's out of here the better if you ask me."
Yorick chose then to be his own advocate. "I seek the ones called the League. I have heard tell that they have magical powers beyond comprehension and it may hold the key to destroying the curse."
Galio's face cracked again, this time forming a thoughtful frown. "Ah, you're like Maokai and Kalista then. Well, you'll have to pass through the capital first, and if Garen's taking a liking to you, then we may have a new champion soon."
"Let's not jump to conclusions." Lux interjected. "Besides, shouldn't you get back to posing? The city's probably gone into a panic with you moving like that."
Galio grimaced and bid them farewell before taking to the sky once more. One it was gone, Yorick hummed. "Impressive to see a golem of that size and intelligence. Demacia truly holds mighty champions."
Garen and Poppy swelled with pride, but Lux grew a smile and burst their bubbles. "Well, lots of places do. Piltover has some real strong fighters and so does Zaun and the Feljord. Much as any of us hate to admit it, our rival state Noxus has some toughies too. Garen over there knows that too well."
Yorick would swear on every grave he'd ever dug that Garen had blushed. It was tiny, nearly imperceptible, but Yorick wasn't born yesterday. Or the day before that… or before that…
Before he lost himself in that quandary, Yorick began to walk again. "We do little standing here. Dawn approaches and we must pass through this place."
That spurred the others on, the gates opening immediately when the guards caught sight of the famous Demacian warriors. There were few out this early in the morning, but Yorick had to stop and wait for the others several times.
It appeared that even these people had their limits.
"If you must rest, do so." Yorick eventually sighed as they entered what he guessed was the military district. "You do me and yourselves no good otherwise."
If he didn't know any better, the Demacians looked relieved. Yorick mused on that for a moment before a screech sounded overhead and he ducked. The sound of feathers and something flying went past his ear, the sight of a blue bird soon greeting him. "What are you?"
"An Azurite Eagle." Someone answered, a woman in blue robes outline with gold walking out of a building. "And his name is Valor. Garen, Lux, Poppy, good to see you. Who's big and grim?"
"My name is Yorick, a gravedigger." Yorick sighed, he was getting tired of repeating the introductions. "And you are?"
"Quinn," the woman answered, pushing brown hair from her eyes. "Though don't think I'm here all that often. Just getting the old armor fixed up."
Garen dismounted and crossed his arms. "It's the only reason you ever enter a city in the first place. Fortuitous timing though, I heard you were out on a mission again."
Quinn shrugged, not moving as Valor landed on her shoulder. "Yeah, well, it wasn't anything big. Enough that command needs to hear it, but not before I get everything fixed. What about you guys, everyone looks tired."
"Not something you hear often with Garen." Lux agreed. "But we've been riding four days straight. We just need to catch a nap and some food before heading out again."
Quinn tilted her head before shrugging. "Well alright then. Barracks isn't full right now, so you guys should be able to find some beds easily. Valor and I are going to see if we can catch something, so we'll see you later."
Quinn set off, Yorick tracking her until she was out of sight. "A powerful bond. Her past must be tragic."
No one deigned to respond to that, so Yorick strode forward once more. "I shall wait by the gates and meditate. Come find me when you're ready."
Garen looked to protest, but Lux and Poppy gave him a look and he backed off. Yorick was thankful for it as he needed to meditate. The sheer amount of souls was starting to get annoying and he needed to center himself.
Climbing to the top of a wall, Yorick took his position and cleared his mind, focusing on the faint beat of his heart and the glow of the Tears around his neck. Even as the sun rose and the bustle of people filled the air, Yorick continued to meditate.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
Until a giant golem interrupted him. "What do you want, construct?"
Galio stared down at him, the golem's presence drawing many stares. "Well, no one's with you and the sun's out. Kind of thought you'd catch fire when that happened."
Yorick chuckled darkly. "I suppose you'd have preferred that, but no. I simply gain a sunburn that heals within a day."
Galio frowned, not liking Yorick's dour air. "Come on, lighten up! I'm just trying to be friendly."
"I hear the voices of the dead." Yorick stated, making Galio's eyes widen. "They wail and whisper in my ears at all times. Stories and tales long forgotten or wished hidden, they tell me, and I guide them to the beyond. It is… stressful, as you can imagine, so I meditate to clear my mind."
Galio appeared to be thinking on that, so Yorick continued his meditations.
Until the golem flopped on the ground across from him and took the same pose. "What in the nine hells are you doing?"
"Giving this meditation thing a shot." Galio said with a laugh. "Can't be a hero without learning new things, right?"
Yorick snorted. "A hero, huh. Well then, do you even understand how meditation works? It requires absolute focus and silence."
"I'm a statue." Galio drawled. "Silence and stillness are my thing."
Yorick didn't believe it for a second.
Regardless, he humored the golem and returned to his meditation. Surprisingly, he wasn't interrupted… at all. In fact, it wasn't until he felt a tap on his shoulder that he opened his eyes to see Poppy staring at him. "Yes?"
Poppy looked very exasperated. "We need to go, now. Galio's been sitting like that for ages and he won't move unless you do."
Yorick found it amusing that the people gave the golem a gender, but a quick glance back and down showed why they needed to leave.
That was a lot of people meditating.
"I never expected to start a cult. At least… not today."
Poppy did not appreciate that flippant remark, a punch to his shoulder proved it.
Yorick then silently swore to beware Yordles. They had more strength then their size belied.
-Three Days Later-
"That… is a sight to behold."
Yorick's observation made the Demacians swell with pride. The capital gleamed in the noon-sun, the sounds of life filling the air to a degree that Yorick never imagined possible.
Nor the sheer volume of souls that filled the city, their whispers and wails nearly deafening. This city, for all its splendor, held much death.
"Our last stop," Garen began, "is to report in. The king will likely wish to know of your presence considering your mission, but I warn you the populace is not all that accepting. Also, your Walkers will need to see the light, the walls extend deep underground."
Yorick snorted, more amused than concerned. "Then I am to make this a pageant? Shall I throw on silks and my regalia? Perhaps give my Walkers some hats and robes?"
Garen glared at him, but Lux started chuckling. "You have one snarky sense of humor. Then again, it's only right to be morbid when the dead are all you can talk to."
Yorick raised a brow, though she could not see it under his cowl. "I suppose… Regardless, I assume one of you is going to inform your king of this? It would be best if your forces did not try to kill me, it would end badly."
Everyone could agree to that, so Garen spurred his horse off. Lux and Poppy passed the time by pointing out and explaining landmarks to Yorick, but the gravedigger sighed when a simple man in sun-steel plate jogged up to them. "Lady Crownguard, Ms. Poppy, we're ready to receive your guest."
"Guests." Yorick rumbled, a gesture making his Walkers burst from the earth. There were a little over sixty now after they'd taken care of some bandits on the way here. "And I have been told they must be in sight. Do control your citizens."
The man fumbled for his blade but paused when he saw Lux and Poppy standing amongst the Walkers unmoved. In fact, Poppy was thumb-wrestling one of them. "V-very well. We, uh… hope you have a pleasant stay."
Yorick was grandly amused, but ordered the Walkers into lines, his plan already filling their minds. He could hear their own cackles of glee at the idea. "Lead the way."
The man shakily nodded and escorted them down the highway, the grand gates of the city opening with the sound of chains. As it pulled open, an explosion of sound met Yorick's ears as the crowds within wondered at the line of soldiers that had cut off the central road.
Then came cheers as Lux and Poppy entered the gate, Yorick remaining in the shadows with his Walkers for a moment. Then, when the women were far enough ahead, he stepped from the shadows.
To almost immediate jeers.
Yorick expected as much. His appearance was that of a specter and his clothes leaked the black mist of the Isles for all to see, especially the great tablet that he bore across his back. Then there were the Walkers, five lines of ten and two of six formed behind him.
The citizens cried in revulsion and shouted their hatred, apparently believing Yorick had been brought to the city for execution. After all, his abilities were sorcery, and that deserved death.
Yorick though, simply ignored them, even as fruit and vegetables began to fly. He caught a few morsels and took a bite, not caring if it was rotten or not. The Walkers did the same, leaving the street as tidy as when they'd arrived despite the volley of produce.
Once the populace realized that wasn't going to work, they returned to shouting insults and threats. These redoubled after Yorick strode past the execution platform, the citizens realizing he was being escorted to the Citadel of Dawn.
At this point, Yorick held up his spade and the Walkers stood straight. With a steady beat, Yorick tapped the ground as he walked, the Walkers goose-stepping in rhythm. It was quite a spectacle to see the ghouls march with a precision that only the best units could hope to match, but Yorick silently sneered at the dumbfounded faces of the citizens.
Not all magic is evil, nor are all curses detriments.
He shook his head of the errant thoughts and kept going. The Citadel of Dawn was quite the sight, though not as blinding as its name implied. It was mostly cast in greys and dark white, making it easier for Yorick to look at, along with lush gardens and delicate arches.
It was almost disgusting, the sheer amount of artistry on display.
The interior was equally splendorous. Silver walls and floors shined in the light while blue and gold cloth gave the palace an air of nobility and grace that belied the strength of its walls.
Yorick was just glad it didn't blind him, not when he had tense guards on all sides that didn't appreciate his little parade. Eventually though, he caught up to Lux and Poppy, the pair leading him into a grand antechamber that held a long carpet of, you guessed it, blue. There was also a great banner that sat behind a silver throne with the crest of Demacia blazoned across it.
Finally, his eyes were drawn to those that stood or sat below the banner. Garen was there, as were Poppy and Lux in different spots, along with several others he didn't recognize.
Starting on the left, there was a woman in white armor with a rapier at her side, black hair hiding one of her eyes. Next to her stood a man in golden armor with a long ponytail and even longer jeweled spear. Then, there was another woman with long blue hair that had a strange instrument before her.
On the right, it started with a woman in a body-suit with red goggles and black hair, her gaze boring into Yorick from across the vast room. Next to her stood a tan man with dreadlocks and silver armor, strange devices at his waist… wait a moment.
"Lucian." Yorick muttered, voice unheard by the audience. "Poor fool."
Moving on from the mourning soul, Yorick found a strange woman with purple skin outfitted in scarlet and gold armor that resembled a dragon. The Walkers were cautious of her, which confirmed his suspicions. She was a half-dragon, a rare existence.
Finally, there were the two in the center. Next to the dragon woman was a tall man, dressed in golden armor that looked like scales with a strange spear of spines propped next to him. Next to the blue haired woman was another tall man dressed in white armor with blue robes, a ceremonial sword at his waist.
Yorick sensed wisdom in this man, his eyes showed it, but none here knew the burden of age quite like Yorick did. No one did.
"Yorick, the gravedigger." The man in blue began. "I am King Jarvan Lightshield III of Demacia. Garen Crownguard, our foremost warrior, has vouched for you and your horrid magics to meet with us. Speak, so that we may know how you won his trust."
Yorick did not bow, as was proper. Instead, the blade of his spade cracked against the floor and he stood straighter. "Hail, King Jarvan III. I am Father Yorick of the Blessed Isles, so ordained by Father Rety in the year 85 A.P, the first and last of my order. I come seeking the knowledge of the League so that I may break the curse of the Shadow Isles."
Mutters broke out among those present. 85 A.P, by the modern calendar, was nearly a millenia ago!
"You speak of immortality!" The man in yellow barked. "Only the specters bound by the League have existed for so long!"
Yorick held up his pendant, the Tears glowing. "The Tears of Life sustain me, the last remnant of the old well at the center of the Isles. I simply wish to end the curse, so that the dead may die and the living live."
"Then why do you have ghouls!" Lucian boomed, a device appearing in his hand. "You enslave souls, just like those monsters!"
Yorick gazed at the man, eyes steady. "I do not deny that I have committed horrors in the name of ending the curse. Nor do I deny that I have used it to my advantage. But I swear, before all here, that I do so because it is necessary."
His voice grew low. "Even so… it is hard to have a heart in the land of the dead."
Lucian was incensed, but the dragon woman grabbed his device and pushed it down. "Not now, Lucian. Tell me, Yorick, are those souls truly enslaved?"
"I am no tyrant," Yorick sighed, gesturing to where two of the Walkers had started arm-wrestling. "These souls act on their own Ms…?"
The woman nodded. "Shyvanna, servant of Prince Jarvan IV. This is Lucian, our expert on the undead, and Lady Vayne's next to him, she's a demon hunter."
"Demon's eh?" Yorick grunted. "I've run into a couple of those. One took the shape of a woman, tried to seduce me. She wasn't laughing when I took off her arm."
Vayne stiffened, but the king called Yorick's attention back to him. "Then you are here only temporarily? How do we know you're not here to seed the Black Mist?"
"You don't," Yorick stated. "But I can guarantee that is not what I'm doing here. Would I parade my Walkers if that was what I wished? Have them clean the streets of the refuse your citizens flung at me? Nay, I simply seek knowledge."
The king and what must've been the prince in the yellow armor leaned together and began a discussion. Seeing this, Yorick turned his attention to the last new faces. "Who are you three?"
The man snorted and shouldered his spear. "Xhin Zao, protector of the throne. Don't make any wrong moves and you won't fear my spear."
"I'd welcome it." Yorick quipped before looking to the woman in white. "I assume you're a duelist by the blade?"
She nodded. "I am Fiora Laurent, the so-called foremost duelist in Demacia. I mean no offense when I say this, but you do not appear to be a worthy foe to challenge."
Yorick grunted. "I was fighting abominations when your line didn't exist. Just because I use a spade does not make me an easy foe."
He turned his attention from the calculating Fiora and met the gaze of the blue-haired woman. "You… are mute, are you not? The spirits speak fondly of you, your music calms them."
Three notes filled the air, the spirits translating. "Yes, your reach is more helpful than you realize. Many here claim your music has laid others to rest, so I must urge you to continue. I may do the same, but… there will come a day where it is too much, and others must take up the banner."
He shrugged. "Of course, if the curse is broken, then it becomes moot. I hope that will come Sona Buvelle, for I wish to see such majesty in action."
Sona blinked, clearly shocked, as was the rest of those present. "You… can speak with the dead?"
Yorick turned back to the king. "Yes, and they speak to me as well. Whispers, wails, it doesn't matter, I hear them no matter the time or place. Secrets, stories… I hear it all."
He held out his hand to forestall the king's next words. "No, I will not share those secrets. Many are irrelevant as time has passed and those that are relevant, you would not want shared. Now then, may I be granted passage to the League? I… dislike this formality."
King Jarvan huffed. "I merely ask that you… demonstrate your power. I wish to understand what you can do before allowing passage."
Yorick sighed, greatly annoyed. Unfortunately, his army was back on the Isles, so he had little choice if he wanted to get where he needed to go. "Very well… what are your rights?"
"Why do you need to know that?" Prince Jarvan asked. "Do your power not simply raise the dead?"
Yorick shook his head and gripped his spade. "I am a gravedigger."
"It is only right that I give those whose bodies make my Walkers a proper burial."
Yorick allowed his conviction to show this time. By the looks of it, he'd won some respect with that showing.
Perfect, maybe he'd won a few more allies and expedited this process.
"I still require a demonstration." The king muttered. "But I can tell you're genuine in your conviction. Our people are buried in a shroud of wool with a banner of the kingdom draped over them. The family and friends then pray for the deceased and light incense to ease the spirit's journey."
Yorick nodded. "Very well. Lead me to the deceased."
-Execution Platform-
"I said the deceased, not the soon to be deceased."
Lux laughed awkwardly, standing with Yorick off to the side. The gravedigger had been given all the vestments he'd need to bury the body, but he hadn't expected to watch a coward die this day.
As the woman's crimes were listed, Yorick felt himself glance around. All those who'd been in the antechamber were there, even the prince and king, and he could tell the crowd was confused by their presence.
After all, while executions were rare, having so many prominent figures in attendance was even stranger.
Sighing, Yorick stoically watched the headman's blade fall and the coward's head roll, cheers soon following. Shaking his head, Yorick took the steps two at a time and kneeled next to the body. Mutters and jeers met his appearance, but Yorick ignored them.
Mist gathered in his hand and he used it to staunch the bleeding stumps. The mist flowed down and swiftly consumed the blood, Yorick gathering the body in his arms and marching from the platform.
The champions and royals followed him to a small graveyard, the coward to be buried in an unmarked grave. Once there, Yorick placed the body on the ground and raised his hand.
Spectral energy raced through the body before coalescing into a new Walker, the ghoul bursting from the ground as the body withered to a husk. Yorick heard mutters again, but he took the cloth and wrapped the body gently, almost tenderly.
To the disbelief of those seeing him doing his job for the first time, Yorick's care and attention to detail was astounding. He even draped the banner across the body in a picture-perfect manner before laying it into the grave.
He then struck a match and lit the incense before placing his hands before the Tears and praying silently. After several moments of silence, Yorick relaxed and began to shovel dirt into the hole, filling the grave within ten minutes. "It is done."
He turned to his audience. "I trust this is enough to grant me passage?"
The king had a severe frown on his face before he nodded. "Yes, it is."
"Though I hope you don't mind if I send a few with you."
Yorick took a dep breath, already seeing several stepping forth to volunteer.
Damn it.
End.
I think that's a good spot to stop. The purpose of this fic alongside the next chapters is to show a Yorick that comes in super late, as in he's the most recently introduced champion in this version, interacting with the other champions. While he may seem OOC alongside some of the other champions, these are ultimately my interpretations.
Yorick is, in my mind, ultimately a good man that has done horrible things and grown tired from it. Hopefully that is conveyed well as he attempts to find that which he seeks.
Also, the Institute is basically a story vehicle. Otherwise, Yorick has no reason to leave the Isles. That won't be explored too much, but I do hope you all enjoy!
Hopefully I didn't screw something up with the lore XD.