Poet Ultima: Archives

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Poeta Somnium

Senior Member

08-14-2012

Here I have amassed all my commission work for other summoners. If you need a lore or league judgment written or a League of Legends theme composed for your project, perhaps I can be of assistance. Please do not post in this thread. This is just an index used for organizational purposes. Use the following link to place requests.

http://na.leagueoflegends.com/board/....php?t=2457440

Poet Ultima - Archives

Page I - Lore Compilations.
Page II - League Judgment Compilations
Page III - Original Champion Themes
Page IV-M - Future Placeholders

My Champion Concpets

Virgil - The Wandering Storyteller

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Lore or KC - The Vengeful Bard (by pengwndude)

Quote:
The skirmishes in Ionia had claimed the lives of many men and women; many of whom were parents, leaving a staggering percentage of the City-State’s youth population without homes. Orphanages and foster homes sprung up to try and handle the problem, but it was far from easy.

KC grew up in one such makeshift hostel. His name was derived from the initials engraved on a peculiar horn that was left in his bassinet on the steps of the orphanage. KC spent most of his childhood there. He was well fed and clothed, but never happy. Once the only person he felt any kinship towards, - a mute girl he often played music with, - was adopted, KC saw little reason to stay there anymore.

KC scraped by down on the Ionian docks, playing his trumpet for tips enough to gather a daily meal together. It wasn’t an ideal life, but he expected nothing better. One day, a merchant captain docked at Ionia with a shipment of goods, and overheard KC playing his horn. The merchant had no child of his own, and the sight of the young boy playing his horn for a few meager coins moved him. The captain invited KC to join him on his voyages, provided that he would continue to play his horn to keep the crew’s spirits up. KC eagerly accepted.

For years KC sailed the waters of Runeterra, visiting far-off lands. Life had never been better. Until one stormy voyage out over the northern cape to Piltover, the merchant ship was intercepted by pirates. The unarmed merchant vessel was no match for the pirate’s cannon barrage. The ship was overrun, the crew slaughtered. The captain saved KC’s life, shoving him overboard before flames consumed the deck.

KC washed up on the Northern shores of Valoran, clinging desperately to consciousness. He could only watch helplessly as the closest thing to a home he had ever known sank beneath the waves, and the closest thing he had to a father went down with the ship.

His horn washed up on shore a moment later, as thought to taunt him of those happy days that he would never regain. He was overcome by anger, and swore revenge against the pirates who had ruined his happiness. Pirate fleets across the seas would tremble at the sound of his horn, for he would forever stand as a protector of all the merchant ships that lived in fear of the ocean’s brigands.
Lore for wurufu's champion Baldar - The Grand Crusader

Quote:
Baldar The Grand Crusader

The rugged roads that navigate through the Ironspike mountains are not traversed lightly. Disappearances were commonplace; the close proximity to both Noxus and Zaun ensured a healthy population of wicked folk looking to take up residence amongst the peaks; crags and caves provided perfect dens for all manner of thieves and bandits who make a living preying on unwary travelers.

Those who completed the voyage unscathed often spoke of narrow escapes, or being forced to trade valuables for safe passage. Until one day, a young Yordle arrived in Piltover unharmed, in firm possession of his belongings, and with a wild tale to tell.

It was not good fortune alone that had seen the Yordle safely through the passes of the Ironspikes. He recounted his story of being caught by surprise by a group of bandits, fearing for his life, when a rogue warrior appeared down the path.

He said nothing as he approached, did not heed the warnings the bandits issued encouraging him to mind his own business. The rogue strode forward, undaunted, and drawing his sword dispatched the bandits in a matter of moments before continuing on down the path without a word, leaving the trembling Yordle in awe.

Accounts of the vigilante’s deeds began to spread; all across Valoran came reports of robbers and fugitives meeting swift ends at the hands of this mysterious warrior. Never once did he request reward or even thanks; he simply continued on his way.

Word soon reached the High Council at the Institute of War; stories of a nameless man protecting the innocent and infirm. Such a soldier of justice would be a welcome addition to the League. If only they could track him down.

No sooner than the High Council had readied messengers to go out and locate the nameless crusader did he appear on the steps of the Institute, seeking admission. Arch Adjudicator Rozuel Fecirem greeted the silent sentinel personally. When asked about his motives or joining the League, the man who introduced himself as Balder said only this;

“I failed to protect them…. I must become stronger.”
Lore for FelixKam's champion Lyrander - The Exiled Heir

Quote:
Justice.

The word is bitter on the lips of Lyrander Lightshield. It is a word as hollow and meaningless as his own surname. A name synonymous with Demacian royalty; exemplars of integrity and righteousness. Bearers of that acrid maxim, “Justice.” It is a name he refuses to abandon, even though it had long ago abandoned him. It is his rightful name. He is Lyrander Lightshield. He is the son of Jarvan III. He is the elder brother of Jarvan IV.

He is the rightful heir to the throne of Demacia.

But Demacia feared his power, branded him as dangerous. His own father issued the order to have him dragged away to Noxus, leaving him to whatever fate had in store. Ah, Noxus…. Where true power is given its due. Noxus, the Empire that Demacia wishes it could be. The Empire that it would be, were Lyrander in power.

From a starving street-rat honing his powers to pick the pockets of unexpected citizens to a convict arrested for his crimes, Lyrander did not hesitate to place every trial and tribulation on the shoulders of Demacia. Faced with enlistment in the Noxian military or a life of imprisonment, Lyrander lent his powers to Noxus as the first step in a long-awaited plan for revenge.

It was that thirst for revenge that fueled him, that shaped him. The city-state’s no-mercy policies provided ample opportunities for him to use his powers for their true purpose; to establish his dominance. His anger propelled him through the ranks, his ambition bordered obsession, and it was these qualities that convinced the High Command that the ruthless warlock was destined for the Crimson Elite, where his voracious lust for vengeance would reach its apex. Every climb through the ranks was another step towards claiming what was rightfully his.

Jericho Swain’s ascension to Grand General threatened the fulfillment of this dream, however. Swain’s aspirations ventured no further than his own foothold in Noxus, and could not be counted on to aid Lyrander in his pursuit for the throne. The Master Tactician may even view him as a threat to his own power; which he would be wise to do. With Swain at the helm, Noxus had taken Lyrander as far as it ever would.

He has sworn no fealty to Noxus; it was but a means to an end. Channeling again his bottomless ambition, he made his move to the League of Legends, where his brother the imposter awaited. The final move before checkmate.
Lore for Gen Mad Hatter's champion Kiara - One with the Void.

Quote:
Kiara – One With the Void

No one knew what fate the daughter of Kassadin had been sent to when Malzahar condemned her to the Void, except for Kassadin himself. He had seen within the Void, survived its horrors by some miracle, but he knew his daughter would not be so lucky. Even the common inhabitants of Valoran were familiar enough with the Void’s spawn Cho’Gath and Kog’maw to speculate that the girl’s chances of survival were slim to none.

But Kiara seemingly retained some of her father’s good fortune. The Void did not consume her, but rather wreathed her, surrounding her in a cocoon of esoteric energies to shield her from the more malevolent creatures that lurked within the Void. For a year in the Valoran world, -- an eternity in the Void, -- Kiara slept, cradled by the Void, trapped within her own mind, the essence of the Void slowly tainting her sanity.

Was it the innocence of a child that preserved her from the horrors of that abyss? Some arcane phenomena incurred by happenstance in the course of Malzahar’s sacrifice? Perhaps it was a father’s love, bridging the gap between dimensions. The means by which Kiara survived were unfathomable, but the fact remains that she did indeed survive. Slowly but surely, Kiara awoke to madness. The more her conscious mind recovered, the further her subconscious was afflicted by Void energies, resulting in a rift between the two.

Kiara awoke on the shores of the Shadow Isles, her soul and sanity in shambles from her prolonged exposure to the Void. But she was still alive. More than alive, she was instilled with the essence of the Void. Wandering the hostile terrain of the Shadow Isles, Kiara was taken under the wing of Evelynn, and taught to thrive in the harsh environment via the way of shadow…. And mercilessness.

But Kiara was not the pupil that Evelynn had hoped; her capacity for violence was great, but the girl was volatile. These bouts of hostility were unpredictable at best, but the child would frequently revert to the persona of a lost and frightened little girl. Evelynn saw in Kiara great potential, tainted with weakness. She abandon Kiara, leaving the Shadow Isles to pursue her own private ambitions in the League of Legends.

Again alone, Kiara learned to hone this so-called weakness, turning it into her greatest strength. When needed, she could harness her natural innocence and tap into the Void’s curse to use it for good. And when violence was called for…. Surviving in the Shadow Isles often called for such measures, and Kiara quickly learned that hesitation meant death.

Armed with her skills, she left the Shadow Isles, following the exodus of many of the Isles’ inhabitants to the League of Legends. There, two men awaited her; the man who had fathered the girl she once was…. And the man who had created the monster she had become. And she had a side of herself reserved for each of them.
Lore for DryRun's champion Mira - The Corrupted.

Quote:
Mira – The Corrupted

Mira opened her eyes to the night sky, surrounded by the sounds of the Kaladoun marshes. Her tunic was stained with blood, but there was no apparent wound to have supplied it. She hazily remembered the attack, but her assailant was long gone.

It had been a morning like any other; she had been scouting the marshes, hunting game for the butchers at the local Demacian market. She had just felled a wild buck, was retrieving her arrow, and then….

Her memory beyond that was a hazy blur. She had leaned down to pull the shaft from her fallen quarry, and looked up to see something rushing straight at her, impossibly fast. She was tackled to the ground, a sharp tearing sensation at her throat, and then darkness.

Mira stumbled back to her village, collapsing exhausted into bed. For days she was plagued by a strange illness, and even stranger dreams. Dreams filled with blood. Days turned into weeks, and Mira spiraled into a fever-induced dementia. Visions of blood and rotting meat reigned over her consciousness. She felt that she was on the verge of death.

Until one day, she awoke. Every sense was sharper, every muscle stronger. But beneath it all, she could not ignore a deep-seated nausea in her gut; a lasting evidence that her encounter had been no nightmare. Nor could she ignore the hunger…. The dreams of blood persisted.

Mira traveled to the Institute of War, seeking a means to cure herself of the affliction. But as she traveled, she found that fighting her symptoms left her feeling weak and fatigued, whereas embracing them was empowering. The more she let her cravings overtake her, the more acute her senses became. But to give herself over came at a terrible price; the thirst for blood was maddening.

By the time she arrived at the Institute of War, her mind was made up. She would harness this sickness…. No, this power, and use it to build her own strength among the ranks of the League. If a cure for her condition could be found in the process, that was fine.

But in the meantime, she wasn’t certain that she truly wanted to be rid of it.
Lore for Arenvalde's concept Triton - King of the Deep

Quote:
Triton - King of the Deep

In the ports of Ionia and Bilgewater the subject of merfolk was a recurring one; their men fierce and powerful, their women fair yet unattainable. Stories were told about their great coral kingdoms, rising up out of the ocean floor grander and more glorious than even the palaces of Demacia. It was entertained as a fantasy, but few believed it. That was until a fishing vessel sent far to the south of Blue Flame Island dragged up a most peculiar catch in their nets; a young girl clad in shells and kelp…. But her strange attire was trivial compared to the rest of her.

She had no legs; none at all. Her torso transitioned smoothly into a long, powerful tail of pearlescent scales and an ethereal fin. Thrashing in their nets, speaking a strange garbled dialect, the pirates knew that they had landed the catch of a lifetime.

On the way back to Bilgewater with their prize in tow, the pirates spoke excitedly of what would become of their catch; chop off her fin, and sell it to the highest bidder? Offer her to the scientists of Zaun? No matter what they did with her, it was certain to garner them a fortune.

Their hopes were dashed, however. Just outside the port of Bilgewater, the vessel was struck by some massive force. Within minutes the hull was breached, the ship going down and the pirate’s prized bounty being freed amongst her people.

For days Bilgewater was under siege; any ships daring to enter or leave were hammered from below, their hulls being breached and sinking beneath the waves. Survivors recounted looking over the side and seeing the churning waters filled with the lashing tails of swarming Merfolk. The aquatic people moved in a school, as fish did, sending their combined mass into the hull of the ship. It seemed the island became a prison, encircled by merciless wardens.

One ship made it through; a lone skiff that battled across the Guardian’s Sea to the port of Noxus. The plight of Bilgewater was then relayed to the Institute of War; and the Institute sent the only representative they had.

Fizz knew of the Merfolk, though he explained that they had never been on good terms with their kind. Nevertheless, Fizz took to the waters and swam out to Bilgewater, seeking a resolution.

Days passed, and many believed that Fizz had been captured or slain. But then he appeared again on the steps of the Institute of War, a towering Merman at his side.

Triton explained that the girl who had been captured was indeed his daughter, the princess, and by accosting her Bilgewater had declared war on his people. The League offered his people representation in the League provided Triton called off the attack on Bilgewater. Intrigued by at last having the opportunity for his people to prove their strength to the inhabitants of the surface world, Triton agreed. The waters of the Guardian Sea came to rest…. For now.


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