[Fan Fiction] Golems
Three hundred years ago, Battle of Duran's Pass.
Jarvan II combed a hand over his young head. Barely eighteen and he felt like he was a thousand years old. "Damn it, damn every single one of them," he muttered weakly, feeling quite nasueous.
As he surveyed the battle, Jarvan II could only feel sicker and sicker. Demacia had been pushing Noxus back for ages, but the day his father died something changed. They say Noxus had some new war machine composed of a single man. Easily won battles turned into hard-fought slogs, which turned into pyrrhic victories, soon turning to grueling losses. Already, Jarvan II could see his men turning back, fleeing as the Noxians pushed. By all accounts, there were far more Demacians...but deep in that ball of warring soldiers, bodies were flying, limbs torn apart without discretion, Noxian and Demacian alike turned into a fine crimson paste. "I...I have to...to do something..." he whispered worriedly.
As with the recent battles, the crux of Noxus's victory lay in one..."man". Sion, once Noxus's prized son turned into an undead monstrosity. Without pause he swung his double-sided axe, cleaving men in twain like they were reeds of grass. "MORE! SEND ME MORE!" He howled in a rage, mere mortals shrinking back in terror as Sion cut a swath through the field. In this state, his mind was a fragmented disaster, barely able to piece together a coherent, one word thought. (Most of the time that one thought was "SLAUGHTER")
The tide of Demacians began to ebb, however, as Sion grunted, gripping his axe's handle so hard it splintered in several places. "COWARDS! WHERE IS YOUR COURAGE? LOOK ME IN THE EYE AS I TEAR OUT YOUR SPINE!" Sion continued to howl. Still, the Demacians fell back...until one regal little whelp stepped forward. It was...Jarvan I? But he had died, hadn't he? Sion had broken his neck what seemed like ages ago! How could this ghost stand before him? Although it was fair to say that by all accounts, he shouldn't have been standing here either.
"F-Foul...Foul monster! I am J-Jarvan the Second! My...my father...he fell....in battle against y-you...but I will avenge..." Jarvan II's sputtering speech made Sion grin ear-to-ear, his prosthetic jaw nearly falling off his face. Not only Jarvan, but one without a spine. Looks like shattering his neck in life had shattered his spirit in death. With a wicked, horrifically gleeful snarl, Sion began charging Jarvan II, the new king barely having time to ready himself. While younger and more fit than his father, Jarvan II couldn't hope to compete with the unholy strength surging through Sion's decaying muscles. Without even a thought, Sion brushed aside his blade, ramming into his chest and sending the young king to the ground.
I can see him. The young one. He reminds me of my master.
That...thing. He is like me. Without purpose. But he is hurting that man.
He is going to kill him and nobody is going to help him.
I have to move. I have...I HAVE to move...
*My body. It's cracking, dust and debris falling off. *
I can move. I can speak.
I can stop him.
In the middle of that crowd, Sion had Jarvan on his back, one foot on his chest and bearing down with agonizing force. Jarvan II cried out in pain as his faux-leg nearly broke the heavy plate he wore on his chest, making the metal concave. "Fight! FIGHT! GET UP! WHY ARE YOU DYING SO QUICKLY! YOU DID SO MUCH MORE LAST TIME!" Sion screamed at Jarvan, still viewing this man as the ghost of the deceased Jarvan I. "IF YOU WON'T PROVIDE A GOOD FIGHT, THEN YOU WON'T GET A QUICK DEATH!"
Sion raised his twin-sided axe, aiming to begin cleaving. Blood dripped off it and his form, a monster in the purest sense of the word. "This is where I die, isn't it? This is where the Lightshield line ends. Father I'm...I'm sorry, I couldn't avenge a thing..." Jarvan II thought to himself, eyes shut as the cries of his men and the gleeful cheers of the Noxians filled his ears. It was at this time that he felt a massive gust of wind, something massive and heavy moving in front of him to stop the attack. The sun seemed to be blot out as Jarvan II peered with one eye open, looking up at the mighty winged beast before him. "An...angel?"
From standing atop Jarvan II, Sion was slammed directly in the chest. His entire form went tumbling, crashing into the men behind him. Nothing. Nothing had EVER moved him. Broken his balance, made him go back. NOBODY...but this thing. This was new. Sion clutched his chest, feeling the rush of war come over him. Yes, YES, finally, someone who could make him feel alive, someone who could fight as he could! "You......you....DIIIIIIIIIIIIIE!" Sion hollered, charging with his axe. He had been so close to a coherent sentence but that bloodlust had stopped THAT.
"Stay under me," The voice of the 'angel' commanded. Jarvan II nodded as the mighty being turned, huddling over him as those wings fell down around him. Without the sun in his eyes, Jarvan II could see clearly. The hands were not the dainty fingers of an angel, but massive stone claws. The wings were not of feather but of enchanted rock. As Sion assaulted the creature, there was no blood, there was only pebbles and rocks that fell.
For the first time, Sion met something his axe couldn't bite into. As he furiously wailed on the creature, Sion's axe began to chip. From there, it began to break, shards of broken metal flying off in dangerously fast arcs, striking some men and perhaps even killing one. Once both sides of the metal axe had shattered, Sion began to just slam the wooden handle into the beast, snapping it in seconds. "WHY...WON'T...YOU....DIE!?!?" he screamed, throwing the shattered axe to the side. Without weapon, Sion began to just slam his fists into the creature's back, anger only growing. Blood splattered outward, yes, YES, he was hurting it! His axe was weak but he was strong, he-
In that rare glimpse of consciousness, Sion looked at his hand. He paused and looked quizzically at both of his hands: The blood wasn't the creatures but his own. His fingers where splintered with bone, shattered, blood seeping outward as his hands resembled little more than cracked balls of bone and blood. "How...can you...NOT DIE..." he growled furiously.
With Sion abated for the moment, the creature stood up, turning to Sion. It was a being of stone and rock, enchanted with magic. With a solemn but furious gaze it stared Sion down. "You cannot kill that which never lived to begin with. A golem such as yourself should know this," it spoke, stone body cracked from Sion's assault but not nearly enough to cause harm.
"I...AM...NO...PUPPET!" Sion, with broken hands, charged the beast, flailing his broken hands in furious arcs. Calmly, with little hesitation, the creature swung one massive stone claw outward. Sion's metal jaw could withstand the blow. Sion's still-human neck, on the other hand, quickly separated from it's body. Sion's view rapidly spun between the sky and the earth, colliding with the ground a few feet away. He saw his headless body, flailing, nobody daring to get close to it as it tired itself out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the headless corpse fell down, twitching.
At this point, the battlefield was silent. Wordlessly, the Noxian soldiers ran over, picking up the decapitated body of their champion and shuffled him off, retreating. One soldier attempted to grab Sion's head...who soon discovered he was still quite alive, as that metal jaw clamped down on his arm and tore right through the bone. The second soldier grabbed Sion by the sword in his skull, keeping it at arms reach as Sion frothed and bit at the air furiously. There was no cheering on the Demacian side as the Noxus forces moved back, all eyes focused on the stone goliath.
Slowly, the being turned to the prince. Many brandished weapons, fearful at what it would try with the immediate threat gone, but Jarvan II moved his hand down, commanding his troops to lower their weapons. Silence, outside of small whispers. Slowly, Jarvan II knelt before the creature, bowing his head. "I owe you my life, friend. Pray tell, what is the name of that which saved me?"
At this, the stone gargoyle looked puzzled. "I...I have no name. My creator..he..." The being paused. Yes, memories. His master had given him life...his master had died here. In shame he had stood there, watching the spot where his master died for ages. Only one word rang out over and over in his head, one word that seemed to connect everything: His magical life, his being, his history, the faded and blurry face of his creator...no, his father.
"Galio. My name is Galio."
Days Later
Sion sat, chained to a chair, as the Noxian "Medics" (They were more akin to butchers and morticians) sewed his neck back to his skull. "He's quiet. Not howling, not struggling, hasn't killed anyone today." One whispered, watching Sion with uneasy eyes. When a creature such as Sion goes quiet, it means something horrible is on the way.
In reality, Sion couldn't shake the image of that THING that had stopped him. Jarvan had a guardian angel, it seemed, and he'd have to slay that angel to get to Jarvan. But something the creature said...something it had spoke to him about. That's what plagued Sion's decrepit mind. Not the failure at killing it, not the rage that boiled in his entire form, but those words that Sion had somehow been able to understand without truly understanding.
"A golem such as yourself should know this."
"A golem such as yourself-"
"A golem-"
In the chair, Sion quaked. The men stumbled back, watching the caged beast begin to huff and growl. The metal chains holding him down began to clang. Those men tending to him ran back, attempting to open the door that kept them locked in with Sion...but it was locked from the outside. "I....AM....NO....GOLEM!" Sion screamed. In a wave of blood magic, the chair and the chains snapped to pieces, Sion howling in fury as he directed his rage on the only things in the room.
Of the ten men that went into that room to repair the Undead Juggernaut, nine of them died. The tenth was so horribly maimed that he was euthanized.
