Deathlord Aurelion Sol
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http://u28.imgup.net/comic35cf.png
"Impeding doom... exciting, isn't it?" Every thousand years, an absolute stellar eclipse occurs, and an ancient evil clad in the bones of forgotten horrors is unleashed from the abyss to roam the land alongside the living. Once a fabled creator, millenia of subjugation followed by centuries of undeath have reduced the dragon to a mindless fiend, whose singular purpose is to consume the spirits of all living things, man or beast. While he slithers across the skies of Runeterra, none are safe.
Hey, guys! Here's a new skin concept for Aurelion Sol. I'm incredibly hyped for this release, he's converted me from support to mid already, haha. He's the prettiest champion Riot has ever done, imo, so I just had to draw a skin concept for him. I love love love Ashen Lord (will buy it asap), but since we know that even space dragons can die, I tried to imagine what he'd look like if he died without breaking the enchantment Targon has over him and rose from the dead with a vengeance, since I'm pretty sure someone as determined as Aurelion would never be able to rest if he wouldn't have his revenge :P
Therefore he's now a lich dragon who does the exact opposite of the things he was doing when he was alive: instead of creating stuff, he just kills everything. And he feeds on the souls of the living, which he stores in his body to power his abilities. The souls he harvests never completely die; they assume a semi-corporeal form dwelling inside of his dried up husk and are forced to do his bidding.
Also, here's a process album to outline my thought process for it, since people have asked about it before:
Thanks for looking! Hope you like my idea :D
The priest tapped his carved staff against the broken column, and the whispers of the apprentices ceased almost instantly. Some of them turned worried gazes towards the old man, mistaking the gesture for a sign of annoyance, but, as always, they were met with his empty eyes and a vacant smile. "We are close now, my dears. The journey has been long and tedious, but we are on the verge of collecting its fruit." He reached into the folds of his robes to retrieve a tied pouch filled with a luscious black dust. With a rapid swoop, he emptied its contents across the ruined altar, as the stars vanished on by one across the night sky. Then, he turned towards the robed men and women around him; they stared back, wide eyed, but silent. "I know you have waited long for this moment. The moment that we retake our parents and brothers, our sons and daughters. Our loved ones. I, too, have searched, and waited for a long time. But the almighty creator shall repay your patience, justly." A whisper spread through the crowd, and some bowed their heads, perhaps to suppress their tears. The priest's eyes were as dead as ever, and his unsettling smile did not fade. Turning his back on his students once more, he kneeled in front of the altar, as the last star vanished and the apprentices linked hands. He had not stopped smiling since the plague had taken little Ros so many autumns ago. That was his promise to her; even though she was so young, she was brave, and she had made him give his word that he would not grieve over her passing. So he smiled, and his smile did not vanish as the altar crumbled to pieces before him, nor did it falter as the apprentices screamed at the eldritch horror rising from its tomb. And it did not change as he felt the cold, clawed hand grasp his head, and he did not cry out as his dry skin crumpled against his bones. For he knew that, any minute now, the dead god would work his magic, and Ros would stand before him, fresh faced and beaming, and he would put her on his shoulders, and- His decaying ribs cracked and expanded to take in the last of his harvest. The welcoming committee had been a pleasant surprise: they had put up an entertaining struggle as he had extracted their souls. Naturally, they had all perished, their desiccated bodies piling up across the ground. The lich dragon did not recognize any of his surroundings, and his unholy hunger was already gnawing at his insides. He took to the sky, scouting for any movement, but the forests were as silent and unfamiliar as his tomb. A single peak rose to the south, towering over the horizon, way above the clouds, and the undead dragon felt a strange sensation on the inside of his skull. In life, he would have known it to be a hint of his hatred, but the dead do not feel, and he did not know what to make of it. Who, or what had he seen there, so many ages ago? But he could not remember, and he did not care much. With a flick of his claw, he unleashed a torrent of wailing spirits at the tomb; the ancient brick gave way in a matter of seconds. He would not be sealed so easily in the same place. As the stars surfaced from the darkness across the night sky, he took off again, slowly drifting towards the mountain who had piqued his curiosity. Perhaps there he would find a satisfactory meal.
:p
