Xin Zhao Bio

Goals of this Xin Zhao bio

• Resolve some obvious timeline issues (no matter how you shake it Xin Zhao looks WAAAAY too young to have been saved by Jarvan II, serve Jarvan III and then mentor Jarvan IV while he was a just boy, it just doesn't work)
• Preserve aspects of the old champion that still work and to adhere to his champion blurb (The short paragraph of text that exists on the champion page before you click the bio)
• Finally to utilize his unique identity of being the only Demacia-Ionian champion. Who was he before Noxus abducted him and how does he go from growing up in a land that is shaped by unrestricted magic to living in a place that actively fears and restricts it
• Connect him to other champions in League of Legends besides Jarvan IV
• Unlike my previous Olaf bio (https://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/story-art/irTEY275-olaf-vgu) I want to make this look like something you might actually see on the Universe instead of a block of text, simple execution over unrefined good ideas

Xin Zhao was born into a small village in the southern reaches of Ionias' Bahrl province on the banks of the Epool River, but he never quite fit in with the other inhabitants of the modest farming village. The people of his village only barely scrapped by, giving a large portion of what little food they produced to the spirits as offerings and surrendering most of whatever was left of their meager harvests as tribute to the violent brigands that used magic to intimidate the village.

Xin Zhaos' father was a prolific practitioner of the Quan-Lo style. A fighting style that incorporated the use of a three-talon spear to ward off many more opponents than one could using a traditional style. When Xins' father decided it was his turn to learn Quan-Lo style he told his son that Quan-Lo was not intended to be used as anything but a ceremonial artform, meant to be passed down through the generations purely for the sake of legacy. While Xin Zhao lacked the high-minded principles it took to be successful at farming, spiritual enlightenment or nonviolent compromise, he immediately took to the straight-forward applications of the Quan-Lo style having nearly mastered it by the time he was 13 years old.

On a fundamental level Xin understood (although he disagreed with) the villagers' submission to the mage-brigands. What he couldn't wrap his mind around was his people incessance on going great length to appease the spirits. Did the grain not grow simply because seeds were tilled in the earth? Isn't the sweat upon a farmers indicative of his labor? Where do spirits factor in, besides making his people hungry? In his eyes the spirits were uncaring entities that allowed people that revere them to suffer all the while discouraging retaliatory action for fear of severing the peoples' connection to The Spirit of Ionia. With each summer that past Xin grew more and more skeptical that the spirits had any of the villagers best interests at heart.

As time bore on and the brigands began to make increasingly more brazen demands of the villagers, Xin Zhao started to bristle at what he viewed as his fathers and villagers passive attitude. In his eyes depending on the land or the spirits to solve their problems wasn't living in harmony, it was apathetic. When his father forbade Xin Zhao from pursuing the bandits, Xin ignored his fathers orders and began tracking their movements into the mountains for days at a time, eager to take action to ease the burden placed on the village people rather than simply meditate.

Little did Xin Zhao know that prowling bandits were the least of his peoples worries. The Noxian Empire had made landfall on the Ionian coast and the first of their ranks had begun to cut through the disorganized Ionian defenders. When Xin Zhao returned the only thing that remained of his village was ash, the villagers' broken corpses and finally his father- dead with no sign of a struggle and hands bereft of his three pronged spear. Xin knew immediately what had occurred: his father had tried to meet the Noxians in peace and the only response he received was a broken farm implement: a sickle sunk deep into his abdomen.

So heavy was his sorrow that Xin Zhao followed in his fathers example: dropping to his knees, unable to retaliate when the Noxians eventually returned and took him captive without so much as a fight.

Not long after, Xin Zhao found himself being whisked away from the only home he ever knew, placed on a warship heading west across the Guardian Sea. The days seemed to blend together weeks, perhaps a month had past before he was prodded along by spear-point through the busy streets of the Noxian Capital, staring in awe at the dark stones that made up the towering spire at the center of it all.

He had no idea what the Noxians' were planning to do with him, to his surprise when the men came to pull him out of his squalid prison cell- the end of their walk didn't lead to an executioners' block or hangman's noose, but instead to a screaming arena full of excited onlookers. Here he was tossed into a pit where other prisoners of war, convicted criminals and Noxians simply trying to make a name for themselves leveled dark steel at his head, his fathers spear, once thought long lost, soon tossed in him behind him.

The Fleshing they called it. It was in pits like these that Xin Zhao realized what his father was trying to protect him from. The desperation of already dead men rushing into one another, the thunderous applause from the crowd at each atrocity committed, the sorrow of looking into the eyes of another frightened Ionian knowing one wouldn't be walking out of the arena. Before many bouts Xin Zhao resolved to not fight back, to allow another gladiator to take his life in a final act of defiance to his captors. Every time he tried to relent however, his body would betray him, reacting to the immediate danger by channeling the old lessons fostered by countless hours training with his father.

"Keep enemies at bay by using the end of your spear-point, remember Wind becomes Lightning".

"Never allow them within your sphere of influence, sweep them away with your Crescent Guard".

"Wait for your opening with the patience of a turtle, but then charge Audaciously to grasp it"

This fighting style was well suited to the conditions of the Fleshing. Xin Zhao quickly rose through the ranks of the lower circuits, gaining a reputation as a fighter who never backed down in the face of overwhelming odds. Fleshing enthusiasts began to refer to him as "Viscero", a half-jest laced in irony intended to poke fun at the Ionian temperament and a half-truth made obvious by the corpses laced in holes that Viscero would leave in his wake after every bout.

It wasn't long until Xin Zhao caught the eye of a megalomaniacal show-runner of the Fleshing. This Noxian was enamored by Xin Zhaos' performances and would often make attempts to push Xin Zhao to the brink, either by declaring all other gladiators would work in tandem to fight against Xin Zhao or by raining throwing axes from the parapet while Xin barely fended off his bloodthirsty competitors.

This farce wouldn't continue for long. Noxian High Command had had enough of this Ionian upstart and his meteoric rise to fame in the fighting pits. Killing Noxians, even in the name of sport was declared bad for morale as it ran paramount to the commonly held belief that Ionians were weak. A belief that was already starting to unravel following the massive losses at the Battle of the Placidium. They would allow it no longer.

Xin Zhao discovered what was to become of him on the way to the capital, overhearing the overzealous driver of the wagon transporting the doomed gladiator back to the capital. His next bout was to the grandest Fleshing in all of Noxian history, where he was set to fight in a grand melee against 300 other gladiators. His death was assured.

Just before he resigned himself to his fate, a miracle occurred. The transport wagon carrying him was attacked by knights in shining silver armor. At the head of their assault was their warrior-king, Jarvan III who was returning to his kingdom with his newly wed queen after being hosted by one of his allies to the east. Word of this gladiatorial prodigy had reached the kings' ears while he was in their company and he was determined to deprive Noxus of their prize and perhaps turn him against them.

Jarvan may have saved Xin Zhao. But it was Xin Zhao who saved the Lady Catherine, selflessly throwing himself between her and an errant crossbow bolt. For this act of loyalty, Xin Zhao was sworn a place at the kings' side and in his court.

Demacia was a nation unlike both Ionia and Noxus, rooted somewhere between the former's wayward spiritualism and the latter's brutal efficiency. In Demacia, everyone was working together towards a common goal, but had ideals like charity, duty and honor that bound them together. Xin Zhao excelled under this system, rising through the court to become the kings' seneschal. He even personally tutored the kings' son, Jarvan IV, throughout his childhood.

But now Demacia finds itself at a crossroads, recent events having caused a schism between mages and nonmages. A schism that will decide the future of Demacia going into the modern era. As the aging Jarvan III prepares to soon cede the throne to his son, Xin Zhao must be prepared to do anything to defend his adopted country and honor its' principles. The principles that gave purpose to his life.