League Of Legends (Origins)

First Riot Post
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Phreak Avenue

Senior Member

01-13-2012

dude. this is REALLY good. Please write more


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NateBen

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Junior Member

01-15-2012

Bump ~ Almost done with chapter two! Probably will be up tomorrow.


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RobotWizardMan

Global Network Ops Manager

01-16-2012
2 of 3 Riot Posts

I am looking forward to it!


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Jaykoboy

Senior Member

01-16-2012

Om nom nom.


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basod

Senior Member

01-16-2012

Good work. I likey.


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LancerXXX

Senior Member

01-17-2012

All this is really nice, but... Doran is the ugly purple shopkeeper guy...


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1Eredale

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Senior Member

01-17-2012

Quote:
Originally Posted by LancerXXX View Post
All this is really nice, but... Doran is the ugly purple shopkeeper guy...
Nope, Journal of Justice says otherwise. He is actually... well, -was- an extremely good artificer, up to the point where Wukong's staff was made by him. But then he suffered brain damage from a tragic accident, and he makes pretty much average items now.

Then, I remember that Ezreal was dragged into the League pretty much against his will, being Summoned all of a sudden due to the magic in his amulet he found.


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NateBen

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Junior Member

01-18-2012

Alright here's chapter two. Sorry for the long wait, but I was really busy this week and so yeah. And again, I want to say; my story may be different from the lore of the original LoL or it's champions. So if you read something that's different from what it says in the story board of LoL, just know that this is just my version of it.

(P.S. This next chapter is going to be all in one post so it might be extremely long. I'll still double space so it's easy to read.)


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NateBen

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Junior Member

01-18-2012

The man stared down at the pile of ash. He softly kicked it, blowing a pile into the air, and stained his boots. He wore metal slate boots under a plate of armor wrapped around his waist with a skull belt, along with a metal shoulder pad on the right side of his naked body. He had two silver wrist guards and carried a large sword that was almost bigger than he was. The man let out a deep sigh, and looked around at his village which was burned down. Charcoal replaced the wooden building that once stood tall. This was his old base, before he left. He suddenly heard his partner call out to him.

“Tryndamere!” The man yelled, running towards him. He partner had on a brown leather suit with white fur on the edge of each sleeve that stopped at his shoulders. He wielded two large axes, one in each hand.

The man, who was standing, turned to him.

“Did you find any survivors?” Tryndamere asked.

The other man shook his head. “No…All the bodies I found were dead.”

“I see…” Tryndamere replied, almost unconcerned about the situation.

“Dammit!” His partner growled, “What happened here?! Who could have done such a thing?!”

“I don’t know…” Tryndamere answered, “But whatever did happen, we were too late to stop it.”

“Arg!” The man threw an axe down out of rage and roared, “All the men we gathered to follow us! It was all a waste!”

Tryndamere put his hands on the man’s shoulders, “Calm down, Olaf. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Nothing we can do about it?! Why not find the one responsible of this, and take our revenge?!” Olaf questioned.

Tryndamere looked back, concerned and annoyed, “We do not know who did this, and the list of people who would do it is very long. Plus; what if this was just a random act of murders? Then we don’t have any lead for sure. We have no idea who could have committed this. Even if we did find out who did this; do you really want to waste so much time as to find their exact location? For all we know, they could be across the globe by now.”

Olaf glared back at his partner. As much as he wanted to go on a rampage, he knew that it would not solve anything. He slowly calmed back down and took a deep breath.

“…Alright then. What do you propose we do now?”

Tryndamere thought for a moment. He looked out in the horizon for a long time, staring at the ash covered field in front of him.

“…I guess we should just keep moving on. There’s nothing to do here. Perhaps someone will take us into their tribe. If the worst too it comes; we might have to start over as mercenaries.”

Olaf looked down with a melancholy look on his face, but nodded.

Tryndamere began to turn around when until he heard something. He quickly stopped dead in his tracks and listened.

“Tryndamere, what is it?” Olaf asked, without hesitation.

Tryndamere hushed him and listened in deeper. It was all quiet. He turned his head a bit and saw a pile of wood that was broken down from the cabins burned down, but saw or sensed no sign of life.

“…Probably just my imagination.”He thought to himself.

“It’s nothing.” He told Olaf, “Let’s go.”

They both turned around and started to leave. Suddenly a barrel flew out of the pile of wood, directly towards them. Tryndamere immediately noticed it, as well as Olaf, and they both jumped in opposite directions to dodge it. The barrel then exploded, causing the smell of cheap alcohol to wreak the air. The pile of wood then crumbled as a large man, nearly double the size of Tryndamere (and probably ten times the weight) came out, carrying another barrel in his hands. He had long orange hair and a mustache goatee that he tied in a braid. He wore almost nothing except for a large clothe that was wrapped underneath his fat belly.

“Bring it on! I’ll take you all at once!” He bellowed.

Olaf and Tryndamere stared back at him, almost blankly. It wasn’t an enemy they were gazing at, it
was an ally. The man with the barrel slowly began to notice who the two people were too.

“Oh…Wait! Boss? Olaf? It’s just you guys…”

Olaf glared back furiously.

“Gragas! You stupid drunk! Who do you think you’re attacking?!”

He walked over and grabbed his beard, pulling his face close to his.

“Next time, think before you do something reckless, or I’ll gut you like the pig you are!”

Tryndamere frowned and said, “Let him go Olaf. At least we found someone still alive. Perhaps he can give us some information on what happened.”

Olaf let go of Gragas’s beard as he slowly walked over.

“Gragas…I’m surprised you managed to survive this massacre. Do you have any idea what happened here?”

Gragas rubbed his beard in pain and hesitated for a moment.

“…Not…Really. During the attack, I was really drunk, so I can’t really decipher what happened.”

“You were drunk?! Aren’t you more efficient when you’re drunk?!” Olaf yelled.

“Well yeah, but you see. That’s the thing. I wasn’t exactly drunk…I was more along the lines of hung over. So then I drank some more to make the pain go away, but that just made it worst. Anyways, the only thing I remembered after that was…I was going back to my cabin to rest and everything was normal. That’s when I heard a boom outside. I tried to walk out, but my cabin caved in on me. The last thing I saw was a man dressed in red. He had white hair, and red eyes; possibly albino.” Gragas
explained.

Tryndamere put his hand to his chin and thought for a moment.

“Red eyes…White hair…”

“That doesn’t sound like anyone we know.” Olaf said.

“You’re right…So we don’t have any lead. This was just a random act. Who knows where the guy can be now?” Tryndamere replied.

“Who cares?! I don’t want to go searching for the guy even if I knew where he is! That guy took out our
whole tribe; by himself! Now I don’t know about you, but I’d say that pretty **** impressive, and not someone to be messing with.”

Tryndamere locked his eyes on Gragas. He flinched back surprised and intimidated. He slowly walked
towards Gragas. Gragas took a few steps back in fear until Tryndamere was up in his face.

“…Excuse me? This…Man, is not to be messed with? Who do you think I am?” He quickly grabbed Gragas by the neck and slowly lifted him off the ground with one hand, “We’re not going to hunt this guy down because we are afraid. We just simply don’t have the time to find his location. Do you understand me?” He slowly told Gragas as he watched him struggle.

“Y-Y-Yeah boss! I got it; so please let me down!”

Tryndamere stared into his eyes a bit longer before he actually let him go. Gragas fell down hard, causing the group to shake a bit and rubbed his neck.

All of a sudden; they heard someone clapping behind them. They all turned around and saw a man dressed in purple robes and a hood that covered his face.

“Splendid display of strength! Master Summoner wasn’t wrong to choose you, Tryndamere.”

Trydamere quickly aimed his sword at the man, along with Olaf getting his axes ready and Gragas grabbing another barrel.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Tryndamere asked, almost growling.

The man placed his hands up in the air in defence.

“Ah, forgive me for not introducing myself, but I am just a messenger.”

“A messenger? Messenger for what?” Olaf questioned.

The man cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Tryndamere, you have been invited to the League of Legends.”

“League of…What? Sounds like a corny guild name…” Gragas said to himself.

“Oh no! The League is nothing like a guild, or anything of that sort. As a matter of fact, it is actually a-”

Before the man could finishing what he was saying, Tryndamere had already lowered his weapon and turned around.

“I’m not interested.”

“What?!” Everyone around him exclaimed, looking at him in shock.

The man in purple robes nervously smiled as he tried to talk again.

“S-sorry but…You haven’t even let me finish what I was saying. As I said, the League of Legends is not a guild. It’s actually a tournament. A battle among the strongest heroes all around-”

“Still not interested…” Tryndamere sighed, “Look; we’re really busy. As you can see; our tribe here was wiped out, so there’s no point for us to stay here any longer.”

“Ah! Well that’s the thing!” The man pointed out, getting a bit excited, “All other explinations aside; if you do win the League of Legends, you will be granted one wish. That wish can even be used to bring back your fallen comrades!”

Gragas and Olaf’s head both shot up when the man said this.

“A-are you serious?!” Gragas asked him, in awe.

“Tryndamere! Did you hear that?! We might actually bring back the ones we lost!” Olaf turned around to his partner.

Again, Tryndamere simply shook his head.

“My men died in battle as warriors. To bring them back like that would only shame them. I do not want to be the one responsible for taking away their honor.”

Gragas and Olaf both thought about it for a moment, but then nodded in agreement.

“Now then; if that’s all. We would like to ask you kindly to please leave…Unless…” Tryndamere raised his sword up again, “You would like us to get a bit violent.”

The man slowly backed off a bit. He started to fumble his words a bit; trying to think of something else to say in order to get Tryndamere to join the League.

He then thought of something that he had heard from his master.

“Y-you know…You’re father was in the League.”

The three of them gasped at what the man just said. The man himself wasn’t aware of it; but both Gragas and Olaf knew that a taboo word had just been spoken.

The man simply thought that he got their interest again, so he continued. “That’s right! You’re father; King Tryndamere, was a great man; and an even better warrior! He was always thirsting for battle. It wasn’t a surprise that when he was invited to the last generation of the League of Legends, he would accept the invitation so easily. Sadly, though, that was his last battle, for his life was lost during a fight with another member of the League.”

As he was ranting on and on about Tryndamere’s father being so great, he didn’t realizes that Tryndamere was slowly walking towards him. It was only when Tryndamere was about three feet away from him when the he noticed. The man sensed that Tryndamere was going to be hostile so he tried to take a step back, but Tryndamere extended his arm out in a swift motion, grabbing the man’s robe and pulled him close.

“Wh-what are you-”

“My father…Was a great man? Hah…Don’t make me laugh.” He looked the man directly in his eyes. Tryndamere’s eyes looked as if he had fire burning in them, “I detested that man. You know what he did to me? Let me start off by saying he neglecting me his whole life. Never once had he stopped to take care of me. All he cared about was war and his kingdom. But no, his wife and his son was not important to him what so ever. Do you know how strong I made myself to make him at least look at me?! Over time, I stopped trying to impress him, but I did thank him for motivating me to become strong. I hated him, yes, but I also respected him. Unlike my father, I had honor. All he cared about (like you said) is battle. Now I wasn’t sure how he died up until now, but let me tell you, when he did, I went through hell. The moment he died, was the moment me and my mother were forced into exile. When my father was no longer around, we were stripped of our nobility, and forced to leave the kingdom. All this took a huge toll on my mom and she later on committed suicide when I was only 19. From then, I joined into a barbarian tribe where I get stronger and stronger for nearly eight years until I was stronger enough to become the leader of my own colony. And unlike my father, I will not neglect my people, and do anything that would put those in defenseless risk, like what he did to me and my mom by dying. And if you think you’re going to try and convince me to join the League by mentioning my father’s name, then let me tell you now; you are dead wrong.”

There was an awkward moment of silence between everyone. The tension grew and grew as Tryndamere stared the man deathly into his eyes. The surprising part was that; it seemed like the man wasn’t afraid at all. Finally Tryndamere shoved the man down in a pile of ashes and let him go.

“Let’s go, Gragas, Olaf…We should leave before this scumbag decides to say something else that might make me want to kill him.”

“Oh…Yeah…” Olaf nodded as he waited for Tryndamere to walk past him. Then they followed behind, but still not too far from the man left in ashes.

He had a stolid look on his face as he sighed to himself and got up. He then called out to the group in front of him.

“Look! I know I’m not allowed to say this, but it’s the last thing I will say to try and get you to join the League. Please hear me out.”

Tryndamere took a few steps forward and slowly stopped, without turning around.
The man stood there for a moment, hesitant about what he was going to say. He then took a deep breath and said, “The one who killed your men…He might be participating in the League this generation.”

Tryndamere’s eye widened once again, and he turned back to the man.

“What did you say?!”

“I said, The one who killed you’re men might…No; he’s defiantly participating in the League. Now; I’m
sure your men died an honorable death; but still, don’t you think there death was in vain if that man is still alive?”

“Who?!” Olaf shouted, “Who is it?!”

“His name is Vladimer…If I tell you anything else about another participant, then I’d be breaking the
rules. I’m not suppose to reveal other player’s identity to each other.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Tryndamere questioned.

The man shrugged, “Master Summoner really enjoyed battling with and agaisnt your father, as well as he enjoyed watching him battle. I’m sure he would be overjoyed to see you join the League.” Slowly, a bunch of blue rings began to form around him from the sky, “But of course, that’s up to you. If you are interested, the meeting spot for participants in a small village located near Demecia. I hope to see you there.”

Olaf tried to call out the man again, but he was already surrounded in blue light and disappeared from
his spot, leaving nothing behind.

There was another moment of silence as Tryndamere thought about what to do. From behind him, his two allies approached him.

“Well Tryndamere? What do you want to do?” Olaf asked.

Tryndamere hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m going…”

He turned around and began to head South, towards Demecia.

“Y-You’re going?! Didn’t you just say you weren’t going to look for the guy?!” Gragas exclaimed.

“I did…” Tryndamere replied as he kept walking, “But that was because I didn’t know who it was, or where his location was. But now that I do know this information; I’m go to find him…And avenge our fallen comrades.”

He then stopped and looked at Gragas and Olaf who were both still stationary behind him.

“Are you guys coming? Of course I’m not going to force you. This was my fight after all.”

Gragas watched confused as he watched Tryndamere continue to walk without waiting for them. He himself was hesitant about going; but when he watched Olaf follow after his boss, it doesn’t seem like he had a choice. He quietly sighed to himself and grabbed a barrel of alcohol.

“Hey! Wait up for me!”


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NateBen

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Junior Member

01-19-2012

Bump~ I forgot to add, this story might not have all the characters in it