FAN LORE: Aatrox, the Darkin Blade
Just something I wrote ^^ I like to write, and I try to write about different subjects and in different voices, so this time I thought I'd try my hand at some Rito lore. And when I finished, I figured that it couldn't hurt to post it and see what people thought. Let me know what you think :D And keep in mind this is a first draft and basically me rambling about what could have been xD I didn't even spell-check it, for I am a lazy dood :/
Runeterra has existed for millennia, and during that time it has seen the rise of fall of hundreds of kingdoms, thousands of wars, millions of people. Entire races have come and gone, races brought forth with unusual powers and genetics, connections with other worlds and entities, places so complex that few people can comprehend them. Places such as Mt. Targon, or the deserts of Shurima, have reached into realms of what most would consider gods. For Runeterra itself is a nexus, a crossroads where the barriers between dimensions are so thin that they can even break open naturally. One with knowledge of interdimensional travel may very well be able to use the world as a conduit to reach any reality.
And that has ever drawn the ravenous mouths of the Void. For if the Void can take Runeterra, they can spill over into every world.
Long ago, so long now that time has devoured all evidence of its existence, there was a mighty empire that covered almost all of Runeterra, an empire ruled by great winged beings known as the Darkin. Blessed with eternal youth, they could only fall in combat, but the Darkin were exceptionally skilled warriors. It was a point of pride to the Darkin to become skilled at aerial combat, combining the speed and agility of their flight with the elegance and grace of precision sword strikes. A single Darkin was a match for a dozen grounded soldiers. With their warrior skill and the tactical advantage of flight, the Darkin crafted an empire out of the entire world. They did not seek to subjugate for the sake of power, but brought other kingdoms and races under their fold in order to reduce war and strife across Runeterra.
They did not enslave other races; in fact, they largely let people continue with their lives as they had before the empire absorbed them. The Darkin attempted to leave the culture of their people intact, but with a single exception: law and order, crime and punishment, were universal across the empire. One word to govern what was allowed and what was not, and all knew the laws and consequences for breaking them. That, and the abolishment of practices that broke these laws, were the extent of the Darkin’s meddling. Judges were appointed to hear all cases, and by and large the Darkin were considered quite fair, and none more so than their leader, whose name is now lost to time.
The Darkin Arbiter was known as a just man, who knew compassion and temperance, but was remarkably strong-willed and could not be swayed from a decision once made. His willpower was so strong that it was said he had once met the living incarnation of greed itself, and had not flinched. He was also an incredibly skilled duelist, and carried out any execution sentences he gave by his own hand. It was this zero tolerance toward breaking the law that kept so many of the judges free from corruption, for the Darkin Arbiter spent his days traveling and personally checking in on the subjects, and could show up anywhere, at any time, using the teleportation magic developed by the Darkin.
For nearly two hundred years, the Darkin Arbiter was the face of justice and the law, as he walked the world and made sure the Darkin Empire lived up to the same ideals it enforced on others. He was second in the empire only to the Lord himself.
And then, the Void came.
Led by monstrous beings that resembled insects and creatures of the sea, the Void spilled into Runeterra, an endless flood of beasts and monsters. The Darkin Arbiter took to the fields of battle with his brethren, leading in times of war as he had in peace.
But the Void seemed limitless in its power and numbers. Thousands of Darking fell in combat, their thrall races perishing alongside them as the Void’s numbers more than made up for their superior combat skills, wiping away tactics, strategy, and advantages through pure attrition. The Lord of the Darkin herself fell in combat, leaving the Darkin Arbiter as the [i]de facto[/i] leader of his race.
It was here, where the Void’s victory seemed unstoppable, that the Darkin Arbiter’s willpower failed him for the first and last time in his life. He knew of the ancient relics that the Darkin protected, and that among them was a black sword, a three-bladed spike that pulsed with life and malevolence. Some say it was a relic of a war fought long ago between gods and mortals, recovered from the slopes of a great mountain. It whispered to those who guarded it, offering them power at a price, and so it could only be guarded by those of strong will—including the Arbiter himself at a younger age.
He took up the blade, and in that instant, the Darkin Arbiter was consumed. In his place stood a being that was more than mortal, a primordial aspect of the world: atrocity made flesh.
With a new host for itself, Atrocity took to the fields of battle, scoring victory after victory. No matter the numbers the Void threw at him, he would not be cut down, as he drained their very life force with each swing of his blade. His power grew with each victory, with each drop of blood spilled. The Darkin cheered for him, as he seemed the savior they needed. Atrocity could create an aura around him, creating a bloodthirsty battle rage in others so strong they could no longer feel pain, so intense they seemed immune to death itself as long as the battles raged on.
Slowly, the Darkin began to see what a monster their leader was. The bloodrage became so strong that some would attack even their allies, and every injury that their leader recovered from was healed overnight, replaced with skin the color of dried blood. Still they fought on, because without the Arbiter, they could not turn the tide.
The war raged on for decades, but eventually, finally, the Void were pushed from Runeterra, the portals they used closed by force. But the toll had been too great. Dozens of races had been wiped out completely, and the Darkin themselves had been reduced to a few hundred individuals. Finally, Atrocity had no more enemies to turn on. The blade thirsted, and the remnants of the Darkin were in no condition to even stand up against him—
But not for nothing had the Darkin Arbiter’s willpower been considered indomitable. Deep within the mind of Atrocity, the Arbiter still lived, refusing to simply fade away to nothingness. It found that it could not stop Atrocity from killing, as blood seemed to be a primal need—but he could delay the time between killings, and he could direct the aspect’s actions to a degree. He might not be able to stop the killing, but if he could control who and when…
Atrocity turned and left the Darkin alone, leaving to wander the world. Eventually, the Darkin would resettle far to the south, where they lived without magic. Their species dwindled away over the eons, and in the present day, only four yet live aside from Atrocity himself.
With the Arbiter’s force of will guiding him without his knowledge, Atrocity changed. No longer was it mindless cruelty and monstrous deeds, it had purpose. What Atrocity was now, was War. It did not question this, for it had no reason to believe it was being manipulated.
The being known today as Aatrox has walked this world for millennia. Always, it has slain lives, and always, it has taken to the fields of war, but ever with a driving purpose behind the insatiable desire to spill blood. Occasionally, is had been aided by other immortal beings, most commonly Tahm Kench, who has his own reasons to keep the Void from claiming Runeterra.
It was Aatrox who shored up Avarosa’s lines so she could stop Lissandra and the Watchers, and it was Aatrox who convinced Anivia to freeze Gnar so that the mighty Yordle could survive into the future. It was Aatrox who had Tahm Kench whisper words into Xerath’s ear, to topple the Shurima Empire at the height of its power. It was always Aatrox who insured that neither Noxus nor Demacia could ever get a decisive advantage in their generations-long war.
The Darkin Arbiter has spent centuries shaping a world in which no one power rises above all the rest, and now, with the Void beginning to intrude on the world once more, the stage has been set. Numerous powers contend with one another. Every nation, every kingdom, every people use different fighting styles and tactics. An arms race has ramped up, leading to biological warfare, advanced mechanical weaponry, and even new lifeforms created by science expressly to win wars. Aatrox has allowed every side to seek ways to one-up its enemies, while denying a decisive advantage to any one group.
The Void faces a splintered world that has known war since its oldest peoples were but children. But all nations know of the Void, and none would sit idly by if another invasion occurred.
Deep within Aatrox, the Darkin Arbiter prays that will be enough, even as he does everything in his power to further prepare Runeterra for what comes.
