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Alas, Poor Yorick

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Senior Member


I wrote a Fan Fiction a few months ago, (http://na.leagueoflegends.com/board/showthread.php?t=835382&highlight=the+tribunal) and it was generally well-received. I had wanted to write another, as I find it an enjoyable time killer. This story was written in a little less time than the first, but I felt like writing about everyone's favorite Gravedigger, who also happens to have a very interesting story behind him. I would love it if you left some constructive criticism or basic thoughts on the story in the comments, as it would allow more people to read it on the front page. Thank you very much, and please enjoy the story.

It was yet another lonely night for the gravedigger as he shuffled about, completing the menial tasks placed before him every evening. He went from headstone to headstone; brushing them off, straightening the flowers left there by loved ones, raking away the leaves that had amassed there throughout the course of the day. He peered up to see the first few snowflakes of the year start to fall from the sky. Yorick Mori had always liked the first snowfall; it was beautiful, and left the outdoors at a perfect brisk temperature. It reminded him of his days at home with his family. He took in a deep breath of the sharp air and continued on his way to the next grave.
As he stopped to rest on a nearby stump, he fondly studied the shovel that had been passed down to him by his father, and to him by his father; so on so forth for countless generations. The gravedigger gazed at the intricate designs and metal-work and thought of the blacksmith who must have put night after night of his time crafting the thing. Yorick stood up with the tired sigh brought on by years of digging graves and finished up his nightly rounds.
The man returned to his solemn and silent shack near the cemetery and put a pot of tea over the fire. He was feeling particularly alone this night, so he took out some various trinkets that reminded him of his mother and father. He thought back lovingly of his mother, and shied away from the thought of how angry his father would be at him for not producing an heir to the Mori line yet.
Yorick had met a woman once, a beautiful one at that. He loved her very much, but she had been murdered in cold blood by a group of thugs. They hadn't meant to kill her, but they had been too rough in an attempt to rob the couple. Yorick continued to blame himself for the tragedy to this day. If only he had stepped in and stopped the beating. He could have taken the men, they weren't any stronger than a proud Mori. But no, he had let them kill the woman he loved, and he could never forgive himself for that.
The loud whistle of the tea pot snapped Yorick out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality. The gravedigger wiped the solitary tear from his cheek and put the few items away. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes with the hot cup in his hand.

Yorick faded back in to consciousness, back in his cold, lonely room within the League halls. It was Snowdown's Eve, and most of the League's champions were visiting family. Garen and Lux had home with the other Demacians, and the Noxians and Ionians went back too.Only a few remained in these dark corridors, and Yorick was one of them. Instead of the peaceful thoughts he had been experiencing in his dreams, the gravedigger was left with the haunting memories of hundreds of corpses, and of the sorrow he had felt after years of ferrying had not freed him from this eternal torture. He thought of the future, when Yorick would outlive everyone he knew today. Eventually the League would crumble, and Yorick Mori would be left alone to wander the lands again. For the time being, he would have to remain content in his quarters, the only thing keeping him company for eternity would be the beloved Mori Family Shovel.

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Alright, I'll admit it-I'm a sucker for Yorick stories. But, alas (poor Yorick), this is one of the first I've seen. Still, I loved it. I believe this is something like what Yorick would do inside the League.