Lore/Narrative Suggestions For Yorick, the Grave Digger

Since Jaredan suggested that we should start conversations and post ideas about champions we care about, I thought I'd focus on my favorite champion in the game: Yorick.

I'm not interested in any sort of game play mechanics or details, so long as Yorick controls ghouls and still carries the shovel. The major details, I'll leave to ChampUp (if they ever get around to his story)

Concept

Yorick isn't/wasn't someone of a haughty status in his life. Sure, he was the last of a line of morticians/gravediggers and owned a magical shovel, but he was doing the digging himself and not letting others do the work for him.

So, I propose that Narrative transforms Yorick into a sort of “blue collar” type character. A hard worker who does his job and was happy about it in life and content in undeath for the most part. The guy who cleans the messes the Black Mist brings/leaves after the Harrowing... or when Elise is done with her latest feeding frenzy... or when Karthus performs a concert... you get the idea.

Yorick should also be the Shadow Isles champion who relates the most to mortals and is the friendliest towards them. Despite his appearance, Yorick is the most like a normal resident of Runeterra: someone who goes to work and does his job to the best of his ability, before resting at the end of the day and starting again in the morning.

The main change I would make to his story is that, through his powers with ghouls, Yorick knows all about the lives of the people he's buried. This includes languages, culture, military tactics and anything important or not. This power does not extend to his own former life, but he is aware of the rumors about his previous existence if not the exact details.

Lore

Yorick's lore could be something like:

The soldier could do nothing but run. Whatever was chasing him would not let him stop.

Not only was he haunted by the screams of his fellow soldiers dying in unearthly combat but the sounds of the undead chasing him through this forest were always too close to allow a moment's rest.

Suddenly, a flash of orange light drew the soldier's attention towards a clearing in the forest. Was it the sun? Was it his salvation from this nightmare? The soldier had to take a chance.

The soldier stopped at the edge of the clearing. All he could see, unfortunately, was dead forest and lone hulking figure wearing a lantern hanging over his head and holding a twisted and oddly shaped shovel. The brute was also singing a song that was common in the soldier's home country, only it sounded like it was being played through the intestines of a dead ox.

It was at this moment that the brute turned to the soldier. “Come, soldier. No harm will come to you here.” It was still menacing, but the soldier was weary and eager for a moment's respite. As the soldier approached, the gravedigger pulled a purple crystal flask from his hip and offered it to the soldier.

“The contents are safe and the liquid is plentiful, soldier. I, Yorick Mori, promised that no harm would come to you and none will.”

The soldier took a drink and was instantly refreshed in mind and body. As the soldier quenched his thirst, the grave digger pulled a small bit of the fire out of his lantern and onto a pile of nearby wood.

“The fire does little for me, soldier. However, I'm sure you'll find some comfort with it.” With that, Yorick sat down on a stump and watched the soldier with what appeared to be a smile. “I'm sorry if I startle you, but it's rare that I have... live company. Let me tell you my story while you rest.”

*Without stopping, the brute continued. *

“My story is simple. I was a gravedigger, as was my family going back generations. We were morticians of the highest caliber. With our shovels, we could prepare one funeral or dig a mass grave for unfortunate soldiers. Unfortunately, plague destroyed the rest of my family and an overzealous lackey ended my life before I could restart the family and continue the business... At least, that's what I'm told. The details are quite fuzzy.”

The giant ghoul took a moment in what would normally have been cause to breathe.

“My current life began when the Shadow Isles needed a custodian. Someone to clean the messes other did and would leave behind. So, the Black Mist came to my grave, powered my shovel and brought me out of the cold earth to do it's cleaning. And here I work, burying those unfortunate enough to get caught by the Shadow Isles.”

*The soldier put a hand on the brute's arm in some sort of sympathetic gesture before the grave digger directed him to the huge pile of armor and weapons over to the side. “Pick yourself some new armor and weapons, warrior. It's time you moved on.” *

When finished with his new armor and gear, the soldier left the clearing and tried once again to find his way off the Shadow Isles. Once the soldier out of vision, Yorick sighed. “I will never understand why you keep playing with them, Mist.” In short time, Yorick went back to digging.

He always had one more grave to dig before his job was done.

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I welcome constructive comments.