Chapter Prologue : The Shadow of War
"HECARIM!" sounded Mordekaiser as he directed a silver gauntlet towards the Jungle. "The East Altar! Now!"
Neighing in obedience, Hecarim charged towards the bushes, tearing the foliage apart. The supernatural powers of the nexus had healing properties to all within the Twisted Treeline, so he personally did not mind. His mind set on a goal, Hecarim continued to advance towards the East turret, just enough to witness the enemy team jungler, Aatrox, attempting to seal it.
Upon noticing his opponent, Aatrox gave an inhuman cry of rage, and took up, descending a few feet before Hecarim. Wasting no time, Hecarim charged forward, giving his opponent no time to prepare for his initial onslaught. As the two mighty beings approached, Hecarim drove forward with a terrifying cackle, invoking in the power of the Shadow Isles to summon a dozen spectral riders that aligned beside him. Aatrox simply growled, standing his ground as he swept his unholy blade at the ghosts. Giving a cackle of glee, Hecarim willed the riders forward as their thundering hooves trampled Aatrox into submission. Hecarim's ability was as such that those in his presence would flee and cower in terror, and Aatrox, despite his immortal self, was no exception. The attack had taken a large chunk of his health away, and continuing his offensive, Hecarim pressed forward, swinging his halberd in a wide arc around him and scything the Darkin Blade.
There were a couple of unique champions in the League of Legends that were so powerful they had to be bound down by magics. For example, Hecarim and Mordekaiser were as such. They were supposedly immortal beings, and being invincible and invulnerable as undead, they powers had to bound so that although, due to their abilities, they would not feel pain, their abilities would be kept controlled by a "mana bar" and "cooldowns" that meant they could not tap into their endless stamina pool and use it at will. Even their invulnerability was denied in the Fields of Justice. A bar known as the "Health Bar" had been allocated to each of them so that when their health pool ran dry, they would be transported against their will to their "respawning" location. The period was one of disability and helplessness, watching your teammates being ravaged by the enemy team in guilt or sadness at being unable to join the fight of repelling the enemy away. All champions, needless to say, did not enjoy it, but the undead ones found it most unsettling. They had never been constrained by such limits before.
And that was the very theory that made Hecarim feel so unsettled about his opponent. Aatrox was capable of dealing insane amounts of "damage" to his "health bar" in a short period, and this time was not an exception. Tapping into his magic, Aatrox unleashed a blast of devastating magic that erupted from him, shrouding himself and dealing damage to Hecarim, forcing him to retreat. When Aatrox reemerged, his blade was thicker, and was shrouded with a set of mystical runes on the surface that glowed.
"No mere mortal can stand in the path of the Shadow Isles!" declared Hecarim as he spun his halberd at an inhuman speed, slashing his opponent. However, Aatrox was rapidly regenerating health with his "Blade of the Ruined King", a tool modelled after a former ruler of the Shadow Isles, whom Hecarim knew him all to well. His opponent at hand, however, was more of a matter to consider. Unwilling to sit in the way of Aatrox' suddenly empowered self, Hecarim activated his "Devastating Charge", an ability that allowed him to travel at a heightened speed. Sprinting away from Aatrox, he taunted the Darkin with a laugh of mockery as Aatrox, infuriated, launched himself after him in a relentless pursuit.
It was a mistake.
Upon seeing Aatrox's blade die down to its original size, Hecarim returned to finish his offensive with a deep roar, pushing back Aatrox. Cursing his disobedient legs, Aatrox remained, still not forsaking the opportunity to grab a potential kill on his foe. Hecarim stood his ground as well, unwilling to give way as the living embodiment of war. No avatar of war would turn to cowardice and flee from the battlefield, and it was better to die an honourable death than one plagued with treachery and dishonour.
Aatrox seemingly chuckled as they both advanced, each drawing their intimidating weapons with the grace and poise expected of legendary warriors. As one of the Darkin, he had witnessed and partaken massacres no less than the Avatar of War himself. His history dated back to Hecarim's himself. "Look at you, Avatar of War," he gloated. 'Was it worth your humanity, all your sacrifices, for this abominable self you have become?"
Hecarim stopped dead in his tracks, dark flames trailing from his eyes. "What do you know of my past, mortal? You are a mere warrior, and I am war itself. You are naught but a puppet in my hands."
"That may be true," Aatrox continued with a deceptive smile, his sinister grin only intriguing Hecarim. "I am nothing to the true War itself. but you are not the living embodiment of war. You are incapable of harnessing its true potential. If a mere warrior like myself can stand up to you, even in this home terrain you are so familiar with, do you still find it fitting to address you as War?"
The following words would forever remain in Hecarim's heart as Aatrox spoke it in the dark, remotely threatening voice of his.
"You are nothing but a shadow of war."
HECARIM paused.
He should have felt no pain, he was both physically and emotionally unable to grasp the subject. As the Embodiment of War, he was granted invulnerability to any forms of assault, be it on the mind or body. Yet pain was what he felt when he was mocked, made a fool of, taunted by a mere human that managed to go toe-to-toe with him, War itself. It first came as a foreign being within his body, a strange, quivering sensation taking over him as if his helmet was compressing the insides of his brain. Following that, a surge of uneasiness took place in his heart, where he found it most uncomfortable.
Mordekaiser had always spoken to the inhabitants of the Shadow Isles about his motto.
Fear is confusion, Pain is clarity.
At that moment, Hecarim felt as if he understood himself more then ever before.
"You. You know nothing, mortal."
"Why do you deny yourself your true form? Why do you still let the constraints of humanity prick at your heart?" Aatrox continued, while creeping ever closer to his opponent. "What are you, Hecarim? Were the rituals you completed worth it?"
"What do you know of my past, fool! Tell me!" roared the ethereal behemoth as he reared onto his hind legs, retaining a steady gaze on Aatrox.
"I can tell you," Aatrox said, his inhuman lips twisting themselves into a form that seemed remotely like a smile. "But you must trust me..."
A sudden blow across his torso returned Hecarim to reality. Aatrox had landed an empowered strike on him, one that had significantly sapped his hitpoints away from his "Health Bar". Roaring in fury, Hecarim rampaged forth with great strength, landing a blow squarely onto Aatrox and pushing him back. There. That advantage was all he needed. Taking advantage of his opponent's confusion, Hecarim summoned a crown of fire around him. Instantly, a wreath of ghostly blue flames appeared around him, flickering in the air and burning at the skin of his foe, turning them into grotesque black lumps of dead skin. Aatrox screamed in agony, attempting to dive away with his ability. Landing a few feet away from Hecarim, he ran for the safety of his turret.
That would not be so.
"Witness the might of the Shadow Isles!' Hecarim roared. "Pathetic human. You dare mock me, now you will pay for it!" With his passive "Rage" from his "Trinity Force" still on activation, Hecarim made use of the speed boost to promptly catch up with Aatrox. The Darkin's eyes widened as Hecarim launched himself into combat once more, and with a signature "Rampage", swung his halberd with such brutal force that it completely lopped off the Darkin's head like a knife slicing through butter.
A piercing screech echoed throughout the Shadow Isles as the head and body were bathed in a blue light and recalled back to their Nexus."Pitiful creature," Hecarim muttered under his breath. "Let his soul beg for release."
HECARIM stood on the East Altar, a magical monument that would supposedly bring blessings to his team if "sealed". Standing on the structure, Hecarim allowed the seconds to tick by before a deep exhale was heard from the altar. The altars were part of a forbidden area in the Shadow Isles, where the souls of two particularly dangerous prisoners were held. They had, in their own way, displeased the former King, and had been exiled to the remote corner, forever to live in solitude. Hecarim, however, was never one to laugh and gloat. With respect, he bowed before the altar, speaking in his guttural, deep voice:"I thank you for your services, m'lady. I must be on my way."
As if enlightened by the speech, the altar suddenly vibrated, threatening to throw Hecarim of balance. Taken unawares, Hecarim roared, swinging his halberd at imaginary enemies.
"Mordekaiser is NOT to be trusted, Hecarim!" a powerful voice of a female suddenly resonated from the altar, echoing in the shadowy forest.
"...What?"
"Mordekaiser is NOT to be trusted, Hecarim!"
"Mordekaiser is NOT to be trusted, Hecarim!"
"Mordekaiser is NOT to be trusted, Hecarim!"
And the voice went on and on, finally dying down with a tired sigh.
Hecarim stumbled back, confusion clouding his mind. Lord Mordekaiser was the one that had been the most happy to acknowledge his presence, both in the Shadow Isles and League of Legends. But the altar...what was it hinting? Mordekaiser was a father figure to everyone on the Island, predating even the Isles itself. None knew his true identity, but had nothing but respect for his powers. And his powers were enough to warrant that nobody dared disrespect him.
But Hecarim knew that the altar was never wrong. It had been there for untold millenium, before he had even set foot on the Isles, and only Mordekaiser knew of its true purpose. What was it suggesting?
THE rest of the game was easily dominated by Hecarim, Mordekaiser and Yorick. Despite his unnatural silence and unnerving looks, the often underestimated Gravedigger was enough of a powerhouse to defeat his lane opponent thoroughly. The other team, desperate to win, had been confused by different commands, and by the 15 minute mark, had surrendered. Hecarim was happy for his victory, the last of a series of "Provisional Matches" before he was allowed to join the League, but was nevertheless unnerved by his experience with Aatrox and the warning of the Altar.
Entering the grand hallway of the Fields of Justice, Hecarim was escorted by two bodyguards that looked at him with fear. They had trailed behind him for a considerable time already, and had it not been Mordekaiser's specific instructions that he should not kill anyone, he would already have unleashed his wrath onto the duo.
The magnificent doors of the Institute of War laid before him. Too frightened to even acknowledge their destination, the two guards had cowered at the back. Hecarim lifted his head, reading the message inscripted onto the polished marble above him.
"The strongest opponent lies within."
Hecarim cackled, a strange sound that somehow increased the intensity of the wreath of flames burning around his helmet.
"Then I have conquered my greatest foe already."
Yet when Hecarim said that, somehow, he doubted his own credibility.
THE "Doors of Acceptance" opened, the ornate structure unfolding itself for Hecarim to witness the grand spectacle before him.
There was Mordekaiser and Yorick, of course, his inseparable companions. They had a grave look plastered across their faces, although with a helmet permanently donned and the rest of his face shaded, Mordekaiser was always as such. Yorick was no exception. The melancholic Gravedigger had nothing but sadness within him.
The rest of the "Champions" looked at their newcomer. Hecarim recognised a few of them as well, actually. There was the "Purifier", a lightslinger that had tried to conquer the terrors of the Shadow Isles a couple of years back, staring at him intently with hatred and anger. And there was Thresh, the dreaded Chain Warden that somehow had a jolly smile patched onto his skull. Hecarim doubted the sadistic skeleton would ever rejoice at the addition of a new champion, even one from the Shadow Isles, but Thresh seemed to been genuinely happy. Perhaps it was because his mere presence beside Lucian made him so.
Hecarim continued viewing the rest of the "Champions" as the Chancellor, a prestiged human clothed in silk robes, stood beside him introducing the new champion. A few had already taken to distaste of him, humans that donned the colours of blue, white and gold. A banner recognised them as "Demacian". The "Noxians" stared on, unknowing of what to make of this new champion, while the "Ionians" looked at him with fear and dread. As for the others, they were not of human race. An unknown creature laid back on his weapon, an odd rod that glowed at the tip. While it was humanoid, its three bulging fingers convinced Hecarim otherwise. Hecarim recognised other powerhouses as well. A being of pure energy sizzled and fizzed, his aquamarine colour converting constantly between various shades of blue. He would have to be careful with this one. There was a canine-headed being as well that donned a form of armour alien to him.
But by far one of the most unnerving of spectacles was a champion bound by two summoners. Hecarim would later know his name as "Brand", and discover that he had slaughtered thousands of Demacian soldiers, similar to him, before the most powerful of magics were finally invoked in order to take him down. An inferno surrounded his humanoid figure, and his hands were bound by a form of mystical shackles. He was, perhaps, one of the most powerful in the Institute. That made Hecarim briefly wonder about the Institute. How had they managed to keep such powerful beings at their control, being served up to summoners at their whim and will? That was an answer he would have to seek for himself.
EVENTUALLY, the introduction session ended. Most champions expressed neutrality at the newcomer, leaving with a simple bow and handshake, such as the Ionians and the few "mercenary" champions such as the the six-eyed figure and the samurai. The Demacians left without a sound, clearly disturbed but bound by their honour. Even so, he had seen the Great Golden Warrior they addressed as "Prince Jarvan" openly scorn him. He had not said it out, his position as a prince guaranteed that. But his eyes had spoken as much. Aatrox, the champion he had trumped in combat earlier, stood at a corner of the room, watching the entire process with quiet amusement before trailing out of the room. He had not spoken either, but the Embodiment of War could sense fear in him. That usually happened in his presence.
The last remaining champions were those from the Shadow Isles, along with a few unrecognised ones. Yorick, forever sombre, had simply acknowledged his presence and trudged out without a sound. Thresh and Karthus simply filed out along with the rest while Elise looked at him with venom and malice. As the preacher of the Spider God, she had openly argued with him regarding the War as a virtue, and those had often ended in violent, short engagements.
SORAKA stared at the newcomer with intrigue, particularly at his equine body waist down. The sacred one had witnessed her fair share of uncommon Champions, but never one as unique as this. While his head seemed to be shrouded by a form of..."helmet", be it his exoskeleton or a vicious clothing, there were fumes trailing out of his armour that she had never felt before. It wasn't nearly as dark as the cruel tendrils of corruption engulfing Varus' lower body, but it was nothing like the holy aura that surrounded herself either. It seemed to be absolutely neutral in a sense.
As she watched the centaur trot away, his hooves pounding the ground, she hurriedly approached him, calling to him in a nervous tone.
"H...Hey!"
Hecarim turned at the sudden noise, unsheathing his halberd in a second and entering a combat stance. "Face death!" He called out in a battle cry as he reared, preparing to bring his might upon his supposed "assailant".
Upon seeing the Starchild, he abruptly stopped, returning to his previous posture although he still held the halberd with caution.
"Hmmph." Hecarim grunted as he narrowed his skeletal slits of eyes at Soraka. "What do you seek, mortal?"
"He-Hecarim, is it?" Soraka continued.
"Yes. Be quick, fool. I have no time to waste. Mortals like you won't even live to see your world destroyed."
"I...I wish to ask you about War."
Hecarim's eyes snapped shut and opened again, flames trailing out of them like mist. "What do YOU want to know about War, child?" he leered. "War is an unfathomable topic for those young of age.
"I have the wisdom of the Stars in me," rebutted Soraka fiercely. "And do not address me as a mere mortal! I am revered throughout all of Ionia as the Great Healer."
"Your "Ionians" are nothing compared to I, who have seen the rise and fall of civilisations for millenia. The petty squabbles your city-states engage in do not deserve the title of war. As for your healing, can you heal what is already dead? War is eternal. I have seen your "Ionian War", and if you think of it as a nightmare, the worst is yet to come."
"What...what is the worst?"
Hecarim snickered, facing the Starchild directly and boring into her eyes. "The shadow approaches. The Isles will reclaim their place as a civilisation, the greatest of all empires. Darkness will engulf the land, and little children like you will beg for release." Finally, with a wide, leering smile on his skeletal remains of a face, he stated. "Are you scared of Warwick, little child? He is nothing compared to the impending invasion. Your bones will be trampled to dust."
The incarnation of war turned his back to the Starchild, a maniacal laughter claiming him. "Beware," he stated," the coming of the Shadow Isles."
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So yeah, this is the end of the Prologue, 3000 words or so. Please do drop a review about how I'm doing, and stay tuned for what comes next!