"The Fall of Shurima" - (Fan-made lore)
Preface, please read.
Hey y'all. I've been playing League since Season 1 and the one thing that Riot has always been consistent on is lore. And its always sucked. I've recently been a little more into the lore as I had taken a break because of school and lack of interest in the game. This resulted in me missing most of the Shurima Event. However, I got back into it this summer and was reading up on what I missed. THe only thing I have to say is... wow Rito. Y'all screwed the pooch on this one. This thing had so much potential and you just blew it. I decided that, since the lore Riot provided left a lot to be desired, I would just write my own. This is just a first draft of a novelette that I've been working on this afternoon. This is only fun for me if its also fun for the community, so if you guys hate it, I'll probably just /ff and go back to mindlessly playing Talon in ranked. On the other hand, if it is well received, I'll try and keep writing these novelettes, and I'll try and improve on what I have so far in this one. Like I said, it's a rough draft- a very rough draft. I called it fan-made lore because I tried to stay as true to the weak lore that Riot provided us. I mostly used lore from the Shurmia event but also dug into Nasus, Renekton, Amumu, and Xerath's lore in case anyone wanted to know what some parts of the story are based on. Hope y'all enjoy.
The Fall of Shurima
A young boy, skin like leather, tanned to a deep brown by the unrelenting rays of the sun sat in the center of the vast atrium that served as his classroom. His teacher, an aged man by the name of Xerath was explaining some aspect of the Code of Emperors.
“The Emperor of the Sands must in all things remain seraphic. With perfect knowledge and insight, he guides his people through the shifting sands of Shurima.”
Azir was not interested in what the old coot had to say. At twelve years old, he knew that he was not a god as the legends of past times led the common people to believe. Perhaps there was a time when mortal men assumed the forms of gods to lead the Shurimans. He had often heard the stories of a scholarly guardian called Naesuis who walked among the sands, guarding ancient knowledge. Moreover, there was the Great Statue of Renaektion, which stood at the gate of the city.
Perhaps there was a time, once, long ago, when these legends held some truth, but no longer. After all, Azir was much more interested in turning the pile of sand on the table in front of him into miniature Holy Guards, his father’s elite protectors. For all of his teacher’s ludicrous ramblings about ancient power, Xerath had taught him several entertaining tricks. Azir’s father had saved Xerath, once a prodigious magus, during an arcane ritual. Now, he served as Azir’s teacher, honoring the life debt he owed to the royal family.
“I am bored with this Xerath. Can’t I go watch the Holy Guards train at the Dais?” remarked Azir.
“You must learn about the ways of the Emperors,” Replied his teacher. “After all, one day it may be you on the throne leading the people of Shurima.”
“Yes, I will. But that day not today and today I want to watch the guards.” The young boy said, jumping from his seat.
“Do as you wish, young one. Life is a precious gift. We must enjoy the time we have.” Stated Xerath.
With that, Azir bounded from the room towards the great Sun Disk. Xerath gazed out one of the large windows of the atrium at the Sun Disk. Its glare was brutally bright, and he could only maintain his survey for a few seconds.
Azir heard his bondsman speaking to himself as he ran down the hallway. He stopped for a moment to listen.
“-Or perhaps life is nothing more than a joke. A few fleeting years given to us by the immortals to grasp for what little meaningless power we can whilst- ”
Suddenly, Azir was distracted by the loud call for prayer to the Emperor. He listened to the low moan of the wind harp for a moment, and then went racing off again, Xerath’s peculiar words instantly forgotten.
The vast, rolling sands of the Shuriman Desert laid before Azir and his father as they stood atop the Dais if Ascension. It had been lifetimes since the Dais was used for its true ritualistic purpose, the details of which were locked away in the tomb of Amumonhotep, the greatest of the Shuriman pyramids. The only key was his father’s Chakram, a circular blade meant for throwing that he carried at all times. As Azir and his father gazed out on to the sands, they observed a small scouting pack of Xer’Sai. The Xer’Sai were unaware they were being watched as they themselves were solely focused on a large caravan from Bel’Zhun. From the Dais, only a quarter league from the city gates, Azir watched as the Xer’Sai admitted defeat. They turned and ran back from where they came, presumably the Sai, the south desert.
“They are getting brazen,” remarked the emperor.
Azir turned to his father, “Let me take and escort of guards into the Said and hunt down their queen, father. I have told you countless times that I am no longer a child. I can accomplish this.”
It was true enough. Azir had grown fast and he had grown well. A towering figure, only his father bested him in height. At the age of 19, he was quickly developing into a powerful warrior.
“Clear your mind of such juvenile ideas. They are not suitable for a fledgling emperor.”
“It is only a matter of time before their violence escalates father. Something must be done and I will be the one to do it.
“YOU WILL NOT.” His father shouted, anger flashing across his face.
Azir quickly backed down. He had learned long ago not to question his father. While he might not be a god, his father could quickly make Azir’s life a living hell.
“I will deal with should it become an issue. No one else.” Azir’s father decreed.
This displeasure was apparent on Azir’s countenance, but he wisely turned on his heel and descended from the Dais. As he reached the bottom of the monstrous staircase, Xerath approached him.
“I am not in the mood for your teachings today, you old coot.” Azir snapped.
“Azir, no need for such harshness. What has happened to upset you in this way?” Xerath inquired.
“My father refuses to treat me like the adult that I am. He idly sits on his throne while the people around him suffer in misery.”
“Your father’s building projects are admirable, Azir. The sacrifice of the people is but a small price to pay for such impressive structures. They will surely be revered a millennia from now.”
“Be that as it may, my father has no regard for the epidemic present in his kingdom.”
“Epidemic, master?”
“Slavery, you fool! You of all people should appreciate the pain and despair that it causes.”
“Of course, Azir. It is a most despicable practice.”
“One I shall be sure to rid this kingdom of as soon as I assume my place on the throne.”
“Yes, as your father ages, his days are number.” Xerath stated, with a tone bordering on ominous.
Oblivious, Azir continued to storm down the Emperor’s Way. “I will help my people. I do not care what my father has to say about it.”
A week passed, perhaps two without any more activity from the Xer’Sai. It started with a few reports of herds of goats being decimated by the beasts. Soon, the violence escalated. First, a caravan was attacked. Though damage to the caravan was minimal, several Eljurav’I, or bell riders, were killed and nearly all the hired sand walkers fulfilled their unfortunate duty as fodder. Not long after, an outpost on the outskirts of the Sai was completely obliterated. Destruction of the scale had not been seen in decades. Rumors flew through Shurima that perhaps the great beast Rek’Sai had awoken from her slumber. Some hypothesized that the great pyramids the Emperor was constructing angered her. She was rumored to be a monster of the void, controlled by a primal territorial instinct. The claim seem sensible enough to Azir.
While Azir sat broiling in rage and inaction, Xerath began to put his plan, 19 years in the making, into action. It all started with a simple comment to the Emperor, in passing.
Xerath jogged to catch the Emperor as the great man stolled down Emperor’s Way towards the palace.
“My lord,” Xerath said with a deep bow upon approaching the king.
“Yes, my friend, what is it I can do for you? And stop with the ‘my lord’ nonsense. You are my friend Xerath and I insist you treat me as such.” Replied the king with a smile.
“Very well. I simply wanted to ask you about something I came across in my studies. As you and I well know, the Ascension is only to be performed in a time of dire need. However, nothing in my reading indicates what exactly constitutes a dire need.”
“My friend, I think you re significantly more qualified than myself to speak on such matters. In truth, I have never given much thought to the Ascension. It is nothing more than a legend from past times meant to awe the people.”
“As you say, so it is, my lord.” Replied Xerath. “I only meant to satisfy my curiosity. If I may ask, how the the situation with the Xer’Sai progressing?”
“I do not wish to speak of such matters.” Snapped the Emperor. “Leave me now. I am sure your counsel will be of greater use to my son than it is to me.”
“Of course, my lord.” Xerath replied humbly, slowly retreating down the road. Heeding the king’s advice, Xerath went to find Azir.
He found him in the library of Naesuis, reading of the Xer’Sai. Approaching the young man, Xerath said, “Words can be quite powerful, but it is action which sparks change.”
“Do you think I want to be here reading, Xerath? I wish with every fiber of my being that I might be out in the Sai myself, eradicating my kingdom of the despicable Xer’Sai.”
“Then do it, my lord. It would be all to simple an endeavor. Your might far surpasses that of a primal beast.”
“Perhaps you are right, Xerath. I refuse to idle any longer as my father wastes away with inaction and complacency by his side.”
With that, Xerath’s student leapt from his chair and bounded from the library. “Some things never change,” Xerath thought with a sly smile.