Whether mistaken for a demon or god, many tales have been told of the Darkin Blade... but few know his real name, or the story of his fall.
In ancient times, long before desert sands swallowed the empire, a mighty champion of Shurima was brought before the Sun Disc to become the avatar for a now forgotten celestial ideal. Remade as one of the Ascended, his wings were the golden light of dawn, and his armor sparkled like a constellation of hope from beyond the great veil.
Aatrox was his name. He was at the vanguard of every noble conflict. So true and just was his conduct that other god-warriors would always gather at his side, and ten thousand mortals of Shurima marched behind him. When Setaka, the Ascended warrior-queen, called for his help against the rebellion of Icathia, Aatrox answered without hesitation.
But no one predicted the extent of the horrors that the rebels would unleash—the Void quickly overwhelmed its Icathian masters, and began the grinding annihilation of all life it encountered.
After many years of desperate battle, Aatrox and his brethren finally halted the Void’s perverse advance, and seared the largest rifts shut. But the surviving Ascended, the self-described Sunborn, had been forever changed by what they had encountered. Though Shurima had triumphed, they all had lost something in their victory... even noble Aatrox.
And in time, Shurima fell, as all empires must.
Without any monarch to defend, or the existential threat of the Void to test them, Aatrox and the Sunborn began to clash with one another, and eventually this became a war for the ruins of their world. Mortals fleeing the conflict came to know them instead by a new and scornful name: the darkin.
Fearing that these fallen Ascended were as dangerous to Runeterra’s survival as the Void incursions had been, the Targonians intervened. It is said that the Aspect of Twilight gave mortals the knowledge to trap the darkin, and the newly reborn Aspect of War united many in fighting back against them. Never fearing any foe, Aatrox and his armies were ready, and he realized only too late that they had been deceived. A force greater than a thousand dead suns pulled him inside the sword he had carried into battle countless times, and forever bound his immortal essence to it.
The weapon was a prison, sealing his consciousness in suffocating, eternal darkness, robbing him even of the ability to die. For centuries, he strained against this hellish confinement... until some nameless mortal was foolish enough to try and wield the blade once more. Aatrox seized upon this opportunity, forcing his will and an imitation of his original form onto his bearer, though the process quickly drained all life from the new body.
In the years that followed, Aatrox groomed many more hosts—men and women of exceptional vitality or fortitude. Though his grasp of such magics had been limited in life, he learned to take control of a mortal in the span of single breath, and in battle he discovered he could feast on his victims to build himself ever larger and stronger.
Aatrox traveled the land, searching desperately, endlessly, for a way return to his previous Ascended form… but the riddle of the blade proved unsolvable, and in time he realized he would never be free of it. The flesh he stole and crudely shaped began to feel like a mockery of his former glory—a cage only slightly larger than the sword. Despair and loathing grew in his heart. The heavenly powers that Aatrox had once embodied had been wiped from the world, and all memory.
Raging against this injustice, he arrived at a solution that could only be born of a prisoner’s desperation. If he could not destroy the blade or free himself, then he would embrace oblivion instead.
Now, Aatrox marches toward this merciless goal, bringing war and death wherever he goes. He clings to a blind hope: if he can drive all of creation into a final, apocalyptic battle—where everything, everything else is destroyed—then maybe he and the blade will also cease to exist.
", "short": "Once honored defenders of Shurima against the Void, Aatrox and his brethren would eventually become an even greater threat to Runeterra, and were defeated only by cunning mortal sorcery. But after centuries of imprisonment, Aatrox was the first to find freedom once more, corrupting and transforming those foolish enough to try and wield the magical weapon that contained his essence. Now, with stolen flesh, he walks Runeterra in a brutal approximation of his previous form, seeking an apocalyptic and long overdue vengeance.
", "quote": "“I must destroy even hope…”", "quote-author": "Aatrox" }, "headerImage": null }, "related-champions": [ { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2017-07-10T00:00:00.000Z", "name": "Kayn", "title": "the Shadow Reaper", "section-title": "Kayn", "slug": "kayn", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "ionia", "image": { "title": "kayn-splash-resized.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/6513f8a9eb12f5a3c06601b0d75b8b05542b2296-1920x1134.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1134, "x": 975, "y": 579, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "kayn-splash-resized.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/6513f8a9eb12f5a3c06601b0d75b8b05542b2296-1920x1134.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1134, "x": 975, "y": 579, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/kayn", "video": null, "races": [ { "name": "Darkin", "slug": "darkin" } ], "roles": [ { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "biography": { "full": "Noxian by birth, Shieda Kayn and others like him were conscripted as child soldiers, a cruel practice employed by only the most devious commanders in Boram Darkwill’s empire. Following the disastrous battle at the Placidium of Navori, the invasion was deliberately reformulated into a protracted war of attrition. Ionian compassion was a weakness to be exploited—their warriors would hesitate before striking down a supposed innocent. Thus, barely able to lift the blade he had been given, Kayn’s first day in battle was also expected to be his last.
Striking against the province of Bahrl, Noxian forces landed at the mouth of the Epool River. Kayn and the others were a reluctant vanguard, facing disorganized bands of locals defending their home from these returning invaders. While his young comrades were cut down or fled the battlefield, Kayn showed no fear. He dropped his heavy sword and snatched up a fallen sickle, turning to face the shocked Ionians just as the Noxian regulars swept in from the flank.
The carnage was staggering. Farmers, hunters—even a handful of vastaya—all were butchered without ceremony.
Two days later, after word had spread throughout the southern provinces, the Order of Shadow came upon the grisly scene. Their leader, Zed, knew this area had no tactical significance. This massacre was intended as a message. Noxus would show no mercy.
A flickering glint of steel caught his eye. A child of no more than ten lay in the mud, leveling his broken sickle at the master assassin, bloody knuckles straining white. The boy’s eyes harbored a pain that belied his age, yet still burned with all the fury of a hardened warrior. This tenacity was not something that could be taught. Zed saw in this child, this abandoned Noxian survivor, a weapon that could be turned against those who had sent him here to die. The assassin held out his hand and welcomed Kayn into the Order of Shadow.
Acolytes traditionally spent years training with a single weapon of their choosing, but Kayn mastered them all—to him, they were mere tools, and he was the weapon. Armor he viewed as a cumbersome burden, instead cloaking himself in shadows and slaying his enemies with quickness and stealth. These swift executions instilled fear in the hearts of those fortunate enough to be spared.
And as Kayn’s legend grew, so did his arrogance. He truly believed that one day his power would eclipse even that of Zed himself.
This hubris led Kayn to embrace his final test: to seek out a Darkin weapon recently unearthed by Noxus, and prevent it from ever being used against the weary defenders of Ionia. He accepted without hesitation, never questioning why he had been chosen for this task. Indeed, where any other acolyte would have destroyed the living scythe known as Rhaast, Kayn took it for himself.
The corruption took hold the moment his fingers closed around the weapon, locking them both in a fateful struggle. Rhaast has long awaited the perfect host in order to rejoin its Darkin brethren and lay waste to the world, but Kayn will not be easily dominated. He returns to Ionia in triumph, convinced that Zed will name him the new leader of the Order of Shadow.
", "short": "A peerless practitioner of lethal shadow magic, Shieda Kayn battles to achieve his true destiny—to one day lead the Order of Shadow into a new era of Ionian supremacy. He wields the sentient Darkin weapon Rhaast, undeterred by its creeping corruption of his body and mind. There are only two possible outcomes: either Kayn bends the weapon to his will... or the malevolent blade consumes him completely, paving the way for the destruction of all Runeterra.
", "quote": "“The child is gone. The killer remains.”", "quote-author": "Kayn" }, "headerImage": null }, { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2012-05-08T00:00:00.000Z", "name": "Varus", "title": "the Arrow of Retribution", "section-title": "Varus", "slug": "varus", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "ionia", "image": { "title": "varus-splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/c4f1197764d67a050281377f366587334f5fc61a-1920x1133.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1133, "x": 1034, "y": 0, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "varus-splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/c4f1197764d67a050281377f366587334f5fc61a-1920x1133.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1133, "x": 1034, "y": 0, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/varus", "video": null, "races": [ { "name": "Darkin", "slug": "darkin" } ], "roles": [ { "name": "Marksman", "slug": "marksman" }, { "name": "Mage", "slug": "mage" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Marksman", "slug": "marksman" }, { "name": "Mage", "slug": "mage" } ], "game-info-url": "http://gameinfo.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/game-info/champions/varus", "biography": { "full": "Regardless of what he would later become, Varus was once a paragon of loyalty and honor. A skilled archer of the ancient Shuriman empire, he was appointed as a temple warden in the eastern states, and he held this duty sacred above all else.
During the earliest stages of the war with Icathia, even though it lay far from that cursed place, Varus' homeland was attacked. While other wardens abandoned their posts to join the defense of the outlying villages, he alone remained, screaming in anguish with every arrow he loosed—for he had chosen to uphold his oaths rather than return home to protect his own family.
Emissaries from the Ascended Host found him kneeling in solemn meditation amid the corpses of his foes. It was said that his cold gaze unsettled even the god-warriors themselves, and yet, in recognition of his noble sacrifice, Varus was offered a place in their ranks.
As one of the great Ascended, he was utterly consumed by his pursuit of vengeance against the Icathians, and the voidling horrors they had unleashed. It is likely that Varus did not even fully comprehend Shurima's ultimate victory in that war, so twisted had his mind become—nor the empire's fall centuries later. Atrocity after atrocity blurred together, leaving him as a withdrawn, callous killer, reshaped and sent into battle countless times by his degenerate brethren.
Their name became feared throughout the known world.
The Darkin.
Warring among themselves, they destroyed any other who stood against them. With his crystalline bow, Varus assassinated enemy commanders and champions, helping the Darkin defeat entire mortal armies with ever greater ease.
Eventually, legend has it that Varus was cornered by vastayan moon-stalkers and human mages in service of a golden-armored warrior queen of Valoran. They bound him within his bow, leaving him to howl in impotent rage. By then, the raw, corrupting influence of the Darkin was known, and yet still the queen chose to wield the deadly weapon in the final days of the war, gladly sacrificing herself for a greater victory.
In the months that followed, the queen carried Varus to the First Lands—those that would later be known as Ionia. Now made monstrous by the bow's power, her last act was to command her followers to bury her alive in a lightless well, sunk deep beneath a mountain temple overlooking the village of Pallas.
Curiously, no record of these events exists in any monastery in Ionia. And yet, it was there that Varus was imprisoned, and tended by the ritual ministrations of the temple's shrine maidens.
The bow remained hidden for centuries, unknown, untouched, and all but forgotten, until Noxian invaders attacked the First Lands. Two beast hunters—Valmar and his heartlight, Kai—fought against the first wave at the Temple of Pallas. Though their courage was great and they drove off the attackers, Kai was mortally wounded, and a grief-stricken Val carried him inside, believing the well's forbidden magic could restore him.
But the temple held only damnation, and both hunters were consumed by the unleashed power of the Darkin within it. The very matter of their bodies was unraveled and bound together again to craft a new body, a body fit to free Varus from his imprisonment. What emerged from the well was a gestalt creature, pale and inhumanly beautiful, part human and part Darkin. After more than a thousand years, Varus was reborn.
Even so, the human and Darkin elements of this imperfect form are in constant flux, with each managing to wrest control for a short time before being reined in by the other. Varus fights to silence the two mortal souls once and for all, and wreak vengeance for the destruction of his race. Still, Kai and Val struggle against his malevolent influence, hoping against hope that their love can overcome the Darkin's hatred.
How long they can keep Varus conflicted is anyone's guess—but should this sadistic and egotistical killer come to fully dominate his new host, it is certain he will seek to reunite with others of his kind, and reduce all of Runeterra to an ashen wasteland.
", "short": "One of the ancient Darkin, Varus was a deadly killer who loved to torment his foes, driving them almost to insanity before delivering the killing arrow. He was imprisoned at the end of the Great Darkin War, but escaped centuries later in the remade flesh of two Ionian hunters—they had unwittingly released him, cursed to bear the bow containing his bound essence. Varus now seeks out those who trapped him, in order to enact his brutal vengeance, but the mortal souls within still resist him every step of the way.
", "quote": "“You didn’t destroy us all. And that mistake will be your undoing.”", "quote-author": "Varus" }, "headerImage": null }, { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2009-05-01T00:00:00.000Z", "name": "Tryndamere", "title": "the Barbarian King", "section-title": "Tryndamere", "slug": "tryndamere", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "freljord", "image": { "title": "Tryndamere_0.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/8970e87a25dae74a9f48448fe2fa984f20c49a46-1215x717.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1215, "height": 717, "x": 937, "y": 3, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "Tryndamere_0.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/8970e87a25dae74a9f48448fe2fa984f20c49a46-1215x717.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1215, "height": 717, "x": 937, "y": 3, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/tryndamere", "video": null, "races": [], "roles": [ { "name": "Fighter", "slug": "fighter" }, { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Fighter", "slug": "fighter" }, { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "game-info-url": "http://gameinfo.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/game-info/champions/tryndamere", "biography": { "full": "Tryndamere came into the world knowing only the harshness of survival, for the frozen steppes where his clan made their home never truly thawed. Though they praised all the Freljord’s old gods, as well as the Cult of the Three, they prayed most often to a spirit-deity known to ravage the tundra—a hearty and unkillable tusklord. Since the raw materials required for armor were scarce, the clan instead put its resources toward the forging of great blades, inspired by their god’s ivory canines.
The stamina and dueling prowess of Tryndamere’s people became legendary. They were able to fend off other raiding tribes, slay the great beasts of the mountains, and repel Noxians encroaching to the south. Tryndamere himself grew to be a brash and formidable warrior, but it wasn’t until a particularly cruel midwinter night that his strength was truly tested. An unusual storm swept in from the east, bringing with it an icy darkness, and a towering, horned figure silhouetted against the full moon.
Some in the clan knelt, believing that their boar-god stood among them. This creature dripped with ancient magic, true enough, but he was not of the Freljord… and those that knelt were the first to die.
Tryndamere looked on in horror. He could feel unhinged brutality rising in his heart at the sight of the invader’s cruel, living sword. Whether taken by bloodlust or some other madness, Tryndamere raised his own blade, and let out a defiant roar.
The dark figure swatted him aside like an insect.
Tryndamere lay surrounded by the dead, in snow soaked almost black with blood. He drew what he thought would be his last breaths as the creature approached and spoke. Tryndamere tried to hold onto the strange, archaic words, but as his life force slipped away, it was the thing’s laughter that burned itself into the young warrior’s memory.
For Tryndamere did not die that night. He was revived by a rage unlike anything he had ever experienced. He looked to the eastern horizon, intent on avenging not only the destruction of his clan, but the desecration of his own martial pride.
However, retribution was not what the steppes offered him. There were survivors, and they would not be long for this world if Tryndamere could not find others to shelter them. There were Noxians to the south, Frostguard to the north, and the dark figure had come from the east. To the west, it was said that some tribes were gathering before the supposed reincarnation of Avarosa—once, he might have dismissed such fanciful rumors, but now he knew this was his only recourse.
Tryndamere and the remnants of his people arrived in the valley as little more than beggars. The young warrior was determined to show his clan’s worth, and win them the Avarosan leader’s protection so that he could return to thoughts of revenge. Brandishing his tusked sword, he did what came naturally, and challenged others to duels. Holding the image of the dark figure and its echoing laughter in his mind, Tryndamere quickly bested anyone who stepped forward.
His singular fury was deeply unsettling to the Avarosans. The northern warriors, too, noted his rapid healing between bouts—unlike the Iceborn that walked among them, the more Tryndamere gave in to his rage, the more quickly his body healed. Many suspected he and his clan practiced strange and unnatural magics, and so Tryndamere’s plan to prove his worth was now endangering the wider acceptance of his people.
But not all of the Avarosans had turned against him. Their warmother, Ashe, was looking to strengthen her position with a political marriage… to someone who could face down the endless challengers for her hand, and to her rule. Seeing an opportunity in the handsome barbarian, she pledged to take in his clan as Avarosans, if Tryndamere became her first and only bloodsworn.
As he spent more time in Ashe’s company, he began to believe what others had whispered—that she was indeed the divine reincarnation of Avarosa herself. His rage found temperance in her thoughtful leadership, and a genuine affection grew between them.
Even so, serving as Ashe’s champion, Tryndamere now looks to an uncertain future. The barbarian king can see war brewing all too clearly on the Freljord’s horizon, yet he still thirsts for his own, personal vengeance, and begins to wonder if his predestined fate might not be at his queen’s side after all…
", "short": "Fueled by unbridled fury and rage, Tryndamere once carved his way through the Freljord, openly challenging the greatest warriors of the north to prepare himself for even darker days ahead. The wrathful barbarian has long sought revenge for the annihilation of his clan, but more recently he has found companionship with Ashe, forging an alliance of marriage with the Avarosan warmother. His almost inhuman strength and fortitude are legendary, and have delivered him and his new allies countless victories against the greatest of odds.
", "quote": "''Rage is my weapon.''", "quote-author": "Tryndamere" }, "headerImage": null } ], "explore-champions": [ { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2011-12-14T00:00:00.000Z", "name": "Ahri", "title": "the Nine-Tailed Fox", "section-title": "Ahri", "slug": "ahri", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "ionia", "image": { "title": "Ahri_Base_Final_v2.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe_live/9e99dedf6a6e2c1e74bdfb81bd5a0a23b3ff4200-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 1296, "y": 158, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "Ahri_Base_Final_v2.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe_live/9e99dedf6a6e2c1e74bdfb81bd5a0a23b3ff4200-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 1296, "y": 158, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/ahri", "video": null, "races": [ { "name": "Vastaya", "slug": "vastaya" } ], "roles": [ { "name": "Mage", "slug": "mage" }, { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Mage", "slug": "mage" }, { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "game-info-url": "http://gameinfo.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/game-info/champions/ahri", "biography": { "full": "For most of her life, Ahri's origins were a mystery to her, the history of her vastayan tribe all but lost save for the twin gemstones she has carried her entire life.
\n\nAhri's earliest memories are of running with icefoxes in the northern reaches of Shon-Xan. Though she knew she was not one of them, they clearly saw her as something of a kindred spirit, and came to accept her within the pack.
\nIn that wild, predatory existence, Ahri nonetheless felt a deeper connection to the forests around her. In time, she came to understand that this was the magic of the vastaya that coursed through every fiber of her being, and the realm of spirits that lay beyond. With no one to teach her, instead she learned to call upon this power in her own ways—most often using it to quicken her reflexes in pursuit of prey. If she was careful and close enough, she also found she might soothe a panicked deer, so that it remained serene and calm even as she and her packmates sank their teeth into its flesh.
\nThe world of mortals was as distant and unsettling to Ahri as it was to the icefoxes, but she felt drawn to it for reasons she could not explain. Humans in particular were coarse, gruff creatures… and when a band of huntsmen camped nearby, Ahri watched them from afar as they went about their grim business.
\nWhen one of them was wounded by a stray arrow, Ahri could feel his life seeping away. Knowing nothing but the instincts of a predator, she savored the spirit essence leaving his body, and through it gained brief flashes of his memories—the lover he had lost in battle, and the children he had left behind when he came north. Ahri subtly pushed his emotions from fear to sorrow to joy, and comforted him with visions of a sun-soaked meadow as he died.
\nAfterward, she found that human words now came to her easily, like something from a half-remembered dream, and Ahri knew the time had come to leave the pack behind.
\nKeeping to the fringes of society, she felt more alive than ever. Her predatory nature remained, but she was caught up in a riot of new experiences, emotions, and customs across Ionia. Mortals, it seemed, also became fascinated by her in return—and she often used this to her advantage, draining their essence while charming them with recollections of beauty, hallucinations of deep longing, and occasionally dreams colored by raw sorrow.
\nShe grew drunk on memories that were not her own, and exhilarated in ending the lives of others even as she felt the grief and woe she brought to her victims. She experienced heartbreak and elation in tantalizing flashes that left her craving more. It was overwhelming, but she sensed her own power fading whenever she tried to stay away, and could not help but partake again and again…
\nIn time, she began to see herself as mortals did: a monster.
\nUntil one day, an artist stumbled upon her, hunched over a man as she drained his life essence from him. Where others would run, he stayed, offering his own life essence in exchange for her heart. For the first time in her life, Ahri let herself fall in love and be loved, wholly and completely.
\nTheir days passed in warmth and laughter, Ahri curbing her hunger by feeding on her lover. She was truly happy... until she lost control, draining her lover completely.
\nAhri fell into despair, her grief consuming her as she mourned the loss of the first and only person she's ever truly loved. The first and only person who ever truly loved her. Retreating even further from society, she became consumed with learning more about where she came from, in hopes that it would help her control her abilities.
\n\nWith her twin sunstones in hand, she set out in search of others like her, a journey that would take her out of Ionia and across Runeterra, eventually leading her to the discovery of her ancestors, the Vesani, a vastayan tribe that brought innovation and magic to the world before being wiped out.
\n\nInspired by their memories, Ahri has set off to travel the world in search of other remnants of the Vesani. She hopes to carry their legacy forward, bringing good into the world like they did. No longer burdened by the heavy weight of her regrets, she also hopes to finally leave her stolen memories behind and create new memories of her own making.
", "short": "Innately connected to the magic of the spirit realm, Ahri is a fox-like vastaya who can manipulate her prey's emotions and consume their essence—receiving flashes of their memory and insight from each soul she consumes. Once a powerful yet wayward predator, Ahri is now traveling the world in search of remnants of her ancestors while also trying to replace her stolen memories with ones of her own making.
", "quote": "“Human emotions can be more volatile than even the deepest magic.”", "quote-author": "Ahri" }, "headerImage": null }, { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2010-05-11T00:00:00.000Z", "name": "Akali", "title": "the Rogue Assassin", "section-title": "Akali", "slug": "akali", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "ionia", "image": { "title": "Classic_Akali_Splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/40f31a2bd25a32f90183e28bf304ea2bf764d38c-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 939, "y": 162, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "Classic_Akali_Splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/40f31a2bd25a32f90183e28bf304ea2bf764d38c-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 939, "y": 162, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/akali", "video": null, "races": [], "roles": [ { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Assassin", "slug": "assassin" } ], "game-info-url": "http://gameinfo.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/game-info/champions/akali", "biography": { "full": "Ionia has always been a land of wild magic, its vibrant people and powerful spirits seeking to live in harmony… but sometimes this peaceful equilibrium does not come easily. Sometimes it needs to be kept in check.
The Kinkou are the self-appointed keepers of Ionia’s sacred balance. The order’s loyal acolytes walk the spirit and material realms, mediating conflicts between them and, when necessary, intervening by force. Born among their ranks was Akali, daughter of Mayym Jhomen Tethi, the renowned Fist of Shadow. Mayym and her partner Tahno raised their daughter within the Kinkou Order, under the watchful leadership of Great Master Kusho, the Eye of Twilight.
Whenever her parents were called away, other members of the order stepped in as Akali’s surrogate family. Kennen, the Heart of the Tempest, spent many hours with the young girl, teaching her shuriken techniques, and emphasizing speed and agility over strength. Akali was a precocious child, and soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. It became clear to all that she would follow her parents’ path—along with the Great Master’s son and appointed successor Shen, she would lead a new generation dedicated to preserving Ionia’s balance.
But balance can be fleeting. The order found itself divided.
A wayward acolyte named Zed returned, and clashed violently with Kusho, wresting power in a bloody coup. Akali fled into the eastern mountains along with Mayym, Shen, Kennen, and a handful of other acolytes. Sadly, Tahno was not among them.
Zed’s transformation of the Kinkou into the merciless Order of Shadow was almost complete. But, as the new Eye of Twilight, Shen intended to rebuild what had been lost. They would return to the Kinkou’s three fundamental philosophies: the pure impartiality of Watching the Stars, the passage of judgment in Coursing the Sun, and the elimination of imbalance by Pruning the Tree. Even though they were now few, they would train neophytes to restore and grow their numbers once more.
When Akali came of age at fourteen, she formally entered her Kinkou training, determined to succeed her mother as the new Fist of Shadow.
She was a prodigious fighter, and mastered the kama and kunai—a handheld sickle and throwing dagger. Though she did not possess the magical abilities of many of her fellow acolytes, she proved to all she was worthy of the title, in time allowing her mother to step down and help mentor the younger neophytes.
But Akali’s soul was restless, and her eyes were open. Though the Kinkou and the Order of Shadow had come to an uneasy accord in the wake of the Noxian invasion of Ionia, she saw that her homeland continued to suffer. She questioned whether they were truly fulfilling their purpose. Pruning the Tree was meant to eliminate those who threatened the sacred balance... yet Shen would always urge restraint.
He was holding her back. All the mantras and meditations could quiet her spirit, but such platitudes would not defeat their adversaries. Her youthful precociousness turned to outright disobedience. She argued with Shen, she defied him, and she took down Ionia’s enemies her way.
In front of the whole order, she declared the impotence of the Kinkou, all its talk of spiritual balance and patience accomplishing little. Ionians were dying in the material realm, and that was the realm Akali would defend. She was trained as an assassin. She was going to be an assassin. She did not need the order anymore.
Shen let her go without a fight, knowing this was a path that Akali must walk alone. Perhaps that path would bring her back one day, but that would be for her to decide.
", "short": "Abandoning the Kinkou Order and her title of the Fist of Shadow, Akali now strikes alone, ready to be the deadly weapon her people need. Though she holds onto all she learned from her master Shen, she has pledged to defend Ionia from its enemies, one kill at a time. Akali may strike in silence, but her message will be heard loud and clear: fear the assassin with no master.
", "quote": "“If you look dangerous, you better be dangerous.”", "quote-author": "Akali" }, "headerImage": null } ], "modules": [ { "slug": "aatrox-teaser-cg", "type": "featured-video", "featured-image": { "title": "aatrox-teaser-cg-bg.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe_live/67a4f3d0d9b51ce634b41f33b877844245d84245-1280x720.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1280, "height": 720, "x": 632, "y": 287, "featured-champions": [] }, "title": "Aatrox: World Ender | Champion Teaser", "subtitle": "", "description": "Death and dust choke the air as a shadow takes shape. It is more ancient and evil than war. And it is growing.", "uri": "https://youtu.be/s8p_brCVNOA", "video": { "type": "video", "title": "", "subtitle": "", "description": [], "uri": "https://youtu.be/s8p_brCVNOA", "width": "", "height": "", "x": "", "y": "", "featured-champions": [] }, "release-date": "2018-06-11T15:00:00.000Z", "video-type": "cinematic", "featured-champions": [], "related-champions": [] }, { "slug": "The Cage", "type": "story-preview", "title": "The Cage", "subtitle": "by Odin Austin Shafer", "description": "Darkness.Whether mistaken for a demon or god, many tales have been told of the Darkin Blade... but few know his real name, or the story of his fall.
In ancient times, long before desert sands swallowed the empire, a mighty champion of Shurima was brought before the Sun Disc to become the avatar for a now forgotten celestial ideal. Remade as one of the Ascended, his wings were the golden light of dawn, and his armor sparkled like a constellation of hope from beyond the great veil.
Aatrox was his name. He was at the vanguard of every noble conflict. So true and just was his conduct that other god-warriors would always gather at his side, and ten thousand mortals of Shurima marched behind him. When Setaka, the Ascended warrior-queen, called for his help against the rebellion of Icathia, Aatrox answered without hesitation.
But no one predicted the extent of the horrors that the rebels would unleash—the Void quickly overwhelmed its Icathian masters, and began the grinding annihilation of all life it encountered.
After many years of desperate battle, Aatrox and his brethren finally halted the Void’s perverse advance, and seared the largest rifts shut. But the surviving Ascended, the self-described Sunborn, had been forever changed by what they had encountered. Though Shurima had triumphed, they all had lost something in their victory... even noble Aatrox.
And in time, Shurima fell, as all empires must.
Without any monarch to defend, or the existential threat of the Void to test them, Aatrox and the Sunborn began to clash with one another, and eventually this became a war for the ruins of their world. Mortals fleeing the conflict came to know them instead by a new and scornful name: the darkin.
Fearing that these fallen Ascended were as dangerous to Runeterra’s survival as the Void incursions had been, the Targonians intervened. It is said that the Aspect of Twilight gave mortals the knowledge to trap the darkin, and the newly reborn Aspect of War united many in fighting back against them. Never fearing any foe, Aatrox and his armies were ready, and he realized only too late that they had been deceived. A force greater than a thousand dead suns pulled him inside the sword he had carried into battle countless times, and forever bound his immortal essence to it.
The weapon was a prison, sealing his consciousness in suffocating, eternal darkness, robbing him even of the ability to die. For centuries, he strained against this hellish confinement... until some nameless mortal was foolish enough to try and wield the blade once more. Aatrox seized upon this opportunity, forcing his will and an imitation of his original form onto his bearer, though the process quickly drained all life from the new body.
In the years that followed, Aatrox groomed many more hosts—men and women of exceptional vitality or fortitude. Though his grasp of such magics had been limited in life, he learned to take control of a mortal in the span of single breath, and in battle he discovered he could feast on his victims to build himself ever larger and stronger.
Aatrox traveled the land, searching desperately, endlessly, for a way return to his previous Ascended form… but the riddle of the blade proved unsolvable, and in time he realized he would never be free of it. The flesh he stole and crudely shaped began to feel like a mockery of his former glory—a cage only slightly larger than the sword. Despair and loathing grew in his heart. The heavenly powers that Aatrox had once embodied had been wiped from the world, and all memory.
Raging against this injustice, he arrived at a solution that could only be born of a prisoner’s desperation. If he could not destroy the blade or free himself, then he would embrace oblivion instead.
Now, Aatrox marches toward this merciless goal, bringing war and death wherever he goes. He clings to a blind hope: if he can drive all of creation into a final, apocalyptic battle—where everything, everything else is destroyed—then maybe he and the blade will also cease to exist.
", "short": "Once honored defenders of Shurima against the Void, Aatrox and his brethren would eventually become an even greater threat to Runeterra, and were defeated only by cunning mortal sorcery. But after centuries of imprisonment, Aatrox was the first to find freedom once more, corrupting and transforming those foolish enough to try and wield the magical weapon that contained his essence. Now, with stolen flesh, he walks Runeterra in a brutal approximation of his previous form, seeking an apocalyptic and long overdue vengeance.
", "quote": "“I must destroy even hope…”", "quote-author": "Aatrox" }, "headerImage": null } ], "minutes-to-read": 5, "url": "/en_us/story/aatrox-color-story" }, { "slug": "aatrox-image-gallery", "type": "image-gallery", "isFanArt": false, "fan-art-url": "", "featured-image": "", "title": "", "subtitle": "", "assets": [ { "title": "Aatrox concept", "subtitle": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe_live/a21fb90699c48cf23777547bf6f9c481d5a21159-1712x1070.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1712, "height": 1070, "x": 241, "y": 171, "featured-champions": [] }, { "title": "Aatrox wing exploration", "subtitle": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe_live/288145671d2eea438d1e2a72f9f6877f855b5b76-1920x1059.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1059, "x": 1694, "y": 246, "featured-champions": [] } ], "featured-champions": [ { "type": "champion", "release-date": "2013-06-13T19:43:26.000Z", "name": "Aatrox", "title": "the Darkin Blade", "section-title": "Aatrox", "slug": "aatrox", "associated-faction": "", "associated-faction-slug": "unaffiliated", "image": { "title": "aatrox-splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/da41f44e7ab5b24f336e8c6198e04fdb13ee5554-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 1351, "y": 346, "featured-champions": [] }, "background": { "title": "aatrox-splash.jpg", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/images/dsfx7636/universe/da41f44e7ab5b24f336e8c6198e04fdb13ee5554-1920x1080.jpg?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "image/jpeg", "width": 1920, "height": 1080, "x": 1351, "y": 346, "featured-champions": [] }, "url": "/en_us/champion/aatrox", "video": { "title": "aatrox-splashvideo.webm", "subtitle": "", "description": "", "uri": "https://cmsassets.rgpub.io/sanity/files/dsfx7636/universe/606a1890faae447a7ea465d62b1dc87ab6ab360d.webm?accountingTag=LoL", "encoding": "video/webm", "width": 1920, "height": 1071, "x": 1351, "y": 346, "featured-champions": [] }, "races": [ { "name": "Darkin", "slug": "darkin" } ], "roles": [ { "name": "Fighter", "slug": "fighter" }, { "name": "Tank", "slug": "tank" } ], "role": [ { "name": "Fighter", "slug": "fighter" }, { "name": "Tank", "slug": "tank" } ], "game-info-url": "http://gameinfo.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/game-info/champions/aatrox", "biography": { "full": "Whether mistaken for a demon or god, many tales have been told of the Darkin Blade... but few know his real name, or the story of his fall.
In ancient times, long before desert sands swallowed the empire, a mighty champion of Shurima was brought before the Sun Disc to become the avatar for a now forgotten celestial ideal. Remade as one of the Ascended, his wings were the golden light of dawn, and his armor sparkled like a constellation of hope from beyond the great veil.
Aatrox was his name. He was at the vanguard of every noble conflict. So true and just was his conduct that other god-warriors would always gather at his side, and ten thousand mortals of Shurima marched behind him. When Setaka, the Ascended warrior-queen, called for his help against the rebellion of Icathia, Aatrox answered without hesitation.
But no one predicted the extent of the horrors that the rebels would unleash—the Void quickly overwhelmed its Icathian masters, and began the grinding annihilation of all life it encountered.
After many years of desperate battle, Aatrox and his brethren finally halted the Void’s perverse advance, and seared the largest rifts shut. But the surviving Ascended, the self-described Sunborn, had been forever changed by what they had encountered. Though Shurima had triumphed, they all had lost something in their victory... even noble Aatrox.
And in time, Shurima fell, as all empires must.
Without any monarch to defend, or the existential threat of the Void to test them, Aatrox and the Sunborn began to clash with one another, and eventually this became a war for the ruins of their world. Mortals fleeing the conflict came to know them instead by a new and scornful name: the darkin.
Fearing that these fallen Ascended were as dangerous to Runeterra’s survival as the Void incursions had been, the Targonians intervened. It is said that the Aspect of Twilight gave mortals the knowledge to trap the darkin, and the newly reborn Aspect of War united many in fighting back against them. Never fearing any foe, Aatrox and his armies were ready, and he realized only too late that they had been deceived. A force greater than a thousand dead suns pulled him inside the sword he had carried into battle countless times, and forever bound his immortal essence to it.
The weapon was a prison, sealing his consciousness in suffocating, eternal darkness, robbing him even of the ability to die. For centuries, he strained against this hellish confinement... until some nameless mortal was foolish enough to try and wield the blade once more. Aatrox seized upon this opportunity, forcing his will and an imitation of his original form onto his bearer, though the process quickly drained all life from the new body.
In the years that followed, Aatrox groomed many more hosts—men and women of exceptional vitality or fortitude. Though his grasp of such magics had been limited in life, he learned to take control of a mortal in the span of single breath, and in battle he discovered he could feast on his victims to build himself ever larger and stronger.
Aatrox traveled the land, searching desperately, endlessly, for a way return to his previous Ascended form… but the riddle of the blade proved unsolvable, and in time he realized he would never be free of it. The flesh he stole and crudely shaped began to feel like a mockery of his former glory—a cage only slightly larger than the sword. Despair and loathing grew in his heart. The heavenly powers that Aatrox had once embodied had been wiped from the world, and all memory.
Raging against this injustice, he arrived at a solution that could only be born of a prisoner’s desperation. If he could not destroy the blade or free himself, then he would embrace oblivion instead.
Now, Aatrox marches toward this merciless goal, bringing war and death wherever he goes. He clings to a blind hope: if he can drive all of creation into a final, apocalyptic battle—where everything, everything else is destroyed—then maybe he and the blade will also cease to exist.
", "short": "Once honored defenders of Shurima against the Void, Aatrox and his brethren would eventually become an even greater threat to Runeterra, and were defeated only by cunning mortal sorcery. But after centuries of imprisonment, Aatrox was the first to find freedom once more, corrupting and transforming those foolish enough to try and wield the magical weapon that contained his essence. Now, with stolen flesh, he walks Runeterra in a brutal approximation of his previous form, seeking an apocalyptic and long overdue vengeance.
", "quote": "“I must destroy even hope…”", "quote-author": "Aatrox" }, "headerImage": null } ] } ] }