[Challenge] - "Why we Summon"

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ReaverKing

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Senior Member

12-31-2011

Looking down now upon Beycrof, my mind wanders over the chaos and thrum of the battle upon the Field of Justice. I could almost feel the blades piercing Ezreal's flesh all over again, hear the triumphant shouts of “Demaciaaa!” as my team was slaughtered whenever we ventured into the open. It had hardly been worth turning up for. Why do I even bother any more? I ask myself.

The memories come unbidden and vivid. A fiery and dust-choked cloud overlay the hamlet in my minds eye. The bloodstained drapes in the tavern spill from broken windows like entrails, the general store lies eviscerated and dozens of laughing, crowing shirtless men in helms carouse among hacked-open bodies and between burning and partially-collapsed homes. This was Beycrof some twenty years before when a Barbarian tribe had decided a simple raid was no longer enough to sustain their population. Beycrof had been all but destroyed in a single afternoon and evening. In my mind's eye I can almost see where my family used to live before a torch hurled through an oiled paper window ignited my parents' straw mattress and the thatch roof before the hovel collapsed upon my parents as my mother carried me out of the conflagration and my father turned back for my younger brother who had stumbled...

Gripped by a blind rage I wrestled myself free of my mother's dying embrace and grabbed at a nearby body hoping to pull the ridiculously out of proportion blade out of the corpse's still-warm hand but instead felt a snapping and the sword's strength-enhancing rune came away from its setting and into my hands. Snarling, I felt new power flow into my muscles and I rushed the nearest Barbarian, and tackled the man (who was more than three times my size) and hurled us both into another nearby burning hut. I felt the flames licking at my skin and the searing pain of my body being literally roasted by the heat.

I cannot say whether that moment lasted seconds or hours but at last I was pulled free of the flames by a hand wrapped in a heavy purple robe that shed the flames as water runs upon glass. A Summoner from the League of Legends had chanced upon the massacre and witnessed my harnessing of a rune with no formal training. With but a a few casual waves of his hands he forced the barbarians from the town and extinguished the blaze. Then he carried me for most of the next day, healing my wounds with magic and telling me of the formation of the League of Legends and its goal of ending open war in Valoran forever. I had not returned to my home town until this very moment.

Suddenly, the vision of the past ends and I find myself looking at Beycroft again as it exists now. Soon, soldiers from Demacia will arrive and begin incorporating the town into the Demacian way of existence. While there are a great many virtues to be found in Demacia, tolerance is certainly not among them. Many villagers would not adapt easily to the strict Demacian rule. There will almost certainly be executions. League decisions are sealed for twenty years. Children born today won't remember it ever being any different. Just as I remember almost nothing but a lifetime of service to the League. And it is all my fault.

Picking my way down the slope and toward Beycrof I begin rehearsing what I might say to the villagers down there who likely won't recognize the face of a man who had once been the child of residents murdered two decades previous. But to prevent others from suffering what I suffered as a child I will endure blisters and falls, feeling half of myself die time and again to blades and burns and savage claws. I will endure the sting of failures great and small, rebukes from fellow Summoners and those I failed, and the tears of those I make miserable with my victories.

That is why I choose to Summon. The kind of suffering that Summoners like myself endure daily on the Fields of Justice and the manifold agonies yet to come which are beyond my imagination are a price well paid if it prevents others from those same agonies. The League of Legends prevents untold destruction and suffering that would surely blossom in its absence. As I enter the hamlet of Beycroft for the first time in over twenty years I wish I could say I was returning home, but the small chamber I live in at the League campus is the only home I've ever known.


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ReaverKing

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Senior Member

02-02-2012

First off I'd like to apologise that its taken me weeks and weeks to get back to this thread. My first post had a real chilling effect and I wanted to counteract that with a slightly different take on what brings Champions and Summoners to what would be almost a living hell were it a real institution and not set dressing for a video game. I finally have some free time to do writing again and so I thought I'd provide a second take on the subject myself. I welcome any other posts and stories that you may happen to write as well as any feedback. I'd really like to see "Why we Summon" as an ongoing project and I hope I can garner more interest as time goes on. And now on to the story:



Exhibition
by ReaverKing


Jarvan the Fourth stood resplendent in his golden armour as Xin Xiao strode to the podium in the centre of the ampitheatre. Jarvan, Garen, Lux and Vayne stood evenly spaced in front of the slightly raised innermost stage waving to the crowd and making gestures of appreciation and applomb. Surrounding Jarvan's squad of Demacian Champions were five ringed tiers of bleachers holding nearly five thousand cheering Demacian citizens. Jarvan basked in the adulation of his future subjects and raised his heavy spear high into the air as music performed by the songstress Sona wafted through the Hextech remote sound amplifiers that carried the lilting melody from the courtyard of the League itself. Today was scheduled to be an exhibition match between the Champions of Demacia and Noxus both for training the Summoners who were to link with the Champions from both city-states as well as to serve as rallying points for the citizenry therein. The only reward for victory would be the victory itself while the only price for defeat would be yet another round of bruised egos for the losers. But Jarvan didn't care. Battle was battle, the thrill of the hunt coursed through him and he thirsted for the challenges to come. At the request of Jarvan's father, both squads of Champions would be "played in" by the fabled musician and Champion Sona before they were Summoned to battle. That Sona herself was a Champion for Demacia was not lost on the Demacian crowd and the finely-crafted next-to-invisible snub to the musicians of Noxus was no doubt just as plain to the Champions awating their own summoning in one of the bloody arenas of Noxus.

"Father is such a sucker for pageantry." Jarvan whispered to himself as the starstruck mob continued to shower cheers and applause upon the five Champions gathered in the centre of the ampitheathre. After several more seconds Xin finished affixing the hextech voice-catcher collar to his throat and raised his arms to signal to Sona and her backup musicians he was ready. Once the introductory strains were out of the way, the aged warrior began to sing out the lyrics of the song in a voice that remained vibrant and pitch-perfect despite Xin Xiao's age and decades of leather-lunged battlefield shouting:


I've worn these Runes, time after time
I've done my sentace but committed no crime
And failing ganks, I've had a few
I've had Monsters kick in my face but I've come through!


We are Demacians my friends!
And We'll keep on fighting till the end!
We are Demacians, We are Demacians
So Strong its Futile!
Cause we're the best Champions in Valoran!


I've given my Vows and defended my Prince
You've brought me fame and duty and everything that goes with it
I thank you Sire
but its been no bed of roses, some battles we lose
I welcome the Challenge, your will be done, and I will stay true!


We are Demacians my friends!
And We'll keep on fighting till the end!
We are Demacians, We are Demacians
So Strong its Futile!
Cause we're the best Champions in Valoran!


We are Demacians my friends!
And We'll keep on fighting till the end!
We are Demacians, We are Demacians
So Strong its Futile!
Cause we're the best Champions in Valoran!



As the music died away the ampitheather held its breath in a moment of collective silence. "Not only is he one of the deadliest men alive, but he's got the voice of an angel the thrice-blessed old *******." Jarvan remarked to himself sliently as he smiled into the summoner spheres relaying the images of the Demacian performance to the rest of Valoran.

A bare handful of minutes later a loud and emphatic percussion refrain burst out of the Hextech Amplifiers as almost thirty thousand Noxian commoners, slaves and visiting spectators crammed into the largest Arena in Noxus began stomping and clapping in unison. Summoner spheres relayed the spectacle in stunning detail to the audience seated in the Demacian ampitheathre as the Noxian team of Katarina, Talon, Urgot, Cassiopea and Jericho Swain charged into the arena from a gate normally reserved for releasing terrible monsters upon the hapless slave-gladiators sentanced to die during "The Fleshing". The entrance of Noxian Champions was accompanied by the wail of Yorick the gravedigger's hextech guitar. The five ran (or in Swain's case hobbled) to the centre of the arena where they bared their weapons and stood in a semi-defensive semicircle as Karthus and the rest of Pentakill took up the words to the Noxian Squad's chosen entrance music:


Jarvan you're a boy makin' big noise playin' in the Rift gonna wear your dad's Crown some day.
You got egg on your face, you royal disgrace; tossin' that banner all over the place.

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Garen you're a strong man, hard man chargin' down the lane gonna steal every kill to - day.
You got blood on your face, you tin disgrace; starving your carry all over the place.

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Xin Zhao you're an old man, tired man, rushin' in to die, gonna make a **** kill some day.
You got mud on your face you ancient disgrace and now we're gonna push you back into your base.

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"

Singing:
"We will, we will gank you!"
"We will, we will gank you!"


Jarvan saw red. His hands clenched so tightly that he could feel the metal joints of his gauntlet cut into his knuckles clean through the thick leather gloves he wore beneath them. How dare they! How DARE they make a mockery of Jarvan Lightshield! Looking about he could see that Garen had gone completely still inside his mountain of armour and a single large vein on the side of his neck stood out in a way that would make Dr. Mundo start reaching for his notepad had he been present. Those blood-rats will PAY for this! I am going - to -

In that moment Jarvan IV's consciousness began to dissolve into his summoner's mind and the molten rage within Jarvan's mind poured through their magical link as the newborn Champion-Summoner consciousness took form, shifting the new joint being's mind ever so slightly toward blind rage and in turn, making it ever-so-slightly more likely to make mistakes.

****

In his last miliseconds as Jericho Swain, the Noxian general looked up at the increasingly crimson face of Jarvan IV displayed on the Summoner Sphere and smiled. His revisions to the lyrics of the Noxian battle march seemed to have achieved the desired effect. As his mind melded with his Summoner and Jericho Swain melted into the alloyed being that was now forming, Swain smiled and thought to himself "rage all you want Jarvan, you're only helping me beat you and one day I shall destroy you completely."


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