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League Judgment - Hecarim, the Shadow of War [Unofficial]

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Greetings all!

One of the things I miss about the game in the past is the League Judgments. I think they added a depth to the characters other than their short backstory. With that in mind, I tried my hand at writing Hecarim's judgment; hope you like it!


Candidate: Hecarim
Date: 14 April, 22 CLE


Hecarim gallops into the great hallway, chips of marble spraying into the air as he abruptly stops in front of the great doors, his metallic hooves digging into the floor. Gouts of bluish green flame pour from gaps in his armor, the air shimmering not with heat but with waves of a terrible cold. A huge halberd is easily carried in his armored hands, a blade which whispers cold tales of death and woe as Hecarim stalks slowly towards the doors.

The huge armor-clad centaur snorts derisively as he approaches the doors, paying no heed to the intricate scrollwork and gorgeous craftsmanship surrounding the door. His gaze falls upon the inscription above the door.

The truest opponent lies within

Hecarim's thunderous laugh shakes the hall. "Then I have conquered my greatest foe already." With these words the doors silently open, and Hecarim trots inside, the darkness closing around him.


Hecarim reared back, his eyes burning from the bright glare of the sun. Shading his eyes from the blazing light, he snarled; he had eyes and hands again! Hecarim's innate connection the arcane bindings which he had so willingly embraced warned him that there was trickery afoot; the illusion was strong, but it was an illusion nonetheless.

Hecarim stared out at his new surroundings. He recognized this place; the Tempest Flats, an ocean of green grass waving and shimmering in the heat of the sun. Hecarim breathed deeply, feeling the cool air fill his lungs. It felt good to be back on the fields of battle again. As he stared out, his keen hearing picked up the sounds of steel clashing upon steel; rearing back he galloped towards the sounds, his halberd swung out to the side in anticipation of bloodletting.

As he charged across the plains, a melee came into view; Noxian troops coming through the Mogron Pass had been ambushed by Hecarim's brothers, the centaurs of the plain. Hecarim charged into the melee with a shout of exultation, cleanly decapitating the first unlucky Noxian to get in his way with one terrible sweep of his halberd. Blood splashed across his chest, hot even in the heat of the sun. Hecarim laughed wildly, his halberd carving a terrible swath through the battle. The joy of combat raged through his mortal body, almost making him forget it was all an illusion.

Hecarim could see his brothers fighting as well, their proud armor and bright weapons gleaming in the light, each movement snuffing out another life in a display of almost beautiful martial prowess. "My brothers!" he cried, stamping the ground and lifting his halberd to the sky in greeting. Hecarim knew them all, recognized those he had left behind in his quest for immortality...and those he had brought with him. Hecarim smiled again as the battle-joy seized him again, joining the great formation of his brothers and cutting through the remaining Noxian troops like a knife through butter.

Just as Hecarim reached the Noxian commander and sent his halberd hurtling down towards the man's head, a flash of light slammed Hecarim back. Darkness seized him again, as he raged against the summoners he knew were watching. The darkness slowly lifted and a new scene presented itself. Hecarim found himself in a creaky boat, one he knew all too well.

Hecarim felt his chest quiver as he struggled to take in breath, his lungs tried and worn from old age. Nearly a century had passed since the first memory, and age was creeping upon Hecarim, his opponents slain and his strength fading. He slowly turned to look at the man guiding the ship from Valoran, steering carefully towards the Shadow Islands. Yorick the Gravedigger he called himself, and he promised Hecarim a final resting place on those misty islands. Hecarim smiled to himself. Yorick had been a tool, nothing more.

After they disembarked Hecarim eagerly cantered towards the obsidian monument he knew he would find at the center of the island. Yorick followed slowly, not yet realizing the centaur's mad plans. Hecarim ran his hands down the side of the monument, feeling the engraved text which whispered to him dark secrets of immortality, promising him the ability to wage war for eternity. Once again, as he had before, he willingly plunged himself into the ritual, allowing the obelisk to bind his soul to the very armor he wore, purging his weak and old body and turning him into the avatar of War itself.

Yorick arrived just in time to see the centaur engulfed in blue-green flames, Hecarim's mighty laughter rolling across the island and becoming hollow, yet filled with a terrible power. As the armor plates whirled around him and formed into a recognizable form, Hecarim again placed his hands upon the obelisk, this time chanting the names of his brothers which he left behind, summoning their immortal souls and binding them to the armor as he had bound himself.

Hecarim howled to the skies, reveling in the massive power discharging from the obelisk into his new body. The feeling of power and immortality was still as intoxicating as ever, and Hecarim greedily bathed in the magical energy. His body was stripped away and a part of the Shadow Islands entered his very soul, changing him into not simply another centaur warrior, but into the Shadow of War, an eternal force of mayhem and destruction.

Suddenly, Hecarim felt the presence of another. Slashing sideways with a terrible speed, Hecarim sliced through Yorick's neck, snarling viciously at the insolence of the gravedigger who dared to approach him.

Yorick smiled, his head staying irritatingly attached.

For the first time in his second life, Hecarim felt a brief chill, until he realized what had happened. Snarling, he withdrew his halberd. The Yorick that was not Yorick stared at him.

"Why do you want to join the League, Hecarim?"

The centaur slammed his hooves into the ground, creating a small shockwave. His voice boomed, "I was once told the League was eternal. I have come to put this to the test; can you outlast the incarnation of War itself?"

Yorick smiled again. "How does it feel, exposing your mind?"

Hecarim ignored the figure, instead staring at the obelisk. A small part of him still wondered why the obelisk had responded to him, and warned that there was something deeper behind his transformation. Hecarim shook the thoughts free and glared at the illusory Yorick. "I feel nothing, summoner. I am War."

Yorick shook his head slowly, vanishing in a puff of black smoke. The illusions slowly cleared, and Hecarim found himself once again in the marble-tiled room. A huge gate at the end slowly opened, beckoning him in.

Hecarim galloped forward, and entered the League of Legends.

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