I'm just going to leave this here.. a little clip about Karthus and his transformation from bag of bones, to floating bag of older bones. Let me know what you think about it.
“Are you sure?” The disembodied voice echoed from somewhere beyond the veil of fog that surrounded Karthus and the mysterious altar he was kneeling before. “You wish to forgo your mortal life and be reborn, baptized in death?” Karthus could not believe this moment had finally come, the moment when he would finally pass over to the land of the dead and achieve his grand calling. A storm raged on outside this pocket of space he had come across after landing on some unknown part of the shore. His boat may not have survived the storm, but he did.
“I am ready! Take my spirit, and remove it from this husk. I want to be free from the tendrils that anchor me to the rest of this miserable world!” He had endured too many years as a fleshling, fascinated by death in a world where most were terrified of it and was shunned for attempting to experience it before his true time. None of that mattered now. “Let me be the voice that spreads what most fear to hear! Let me sing the words of their requiem so that they all may be free!” The split second after Karthus had let that final syllable flow through his body and into the thick, poisonous, air of the Shadow Isles is burned in his memory, forever clear.
Because it was his last.
In that fraction of a second, everything that was troubling him; his emotions, his pains, his fears, those things all faded away. Sounds, like that of the churning storm above him, or the rustling of the trees, their corpse-like branches continually caressing each other, fell on deaf ears once again. The altar he had found not too far from the shore which he had landed on, fell into nothing, as did the fog and the ground. He could no longer feel, hear, or see anything. It was if a blackness had fallen upon him and transported him to another, darker plane. This was true silence. A lifetime of obsession, and all the downfalls associated with it, had given way to a single, peaceful, second.
How long he spent in that darkened plane, he will never be able to pinpoint, but, when he had awoken on top of the altar, he peered down upon the husk he once occupied and was instantly overjoyed. The soft prison which once held the freshly born lich, had now deteriorated and all that remained was a pile of discolored bones strewn about. The skull, which he originally thought to be missing, now rests at the head of the altar emanating a sickly green color from the eyes. He knew the importance of protecting this artifact and decided to leave it on the altar. No one, aside from the Ruined King himself, would know where to look for it.
Karthus had met the Ruined King in that dark plane. Granted, he could not see him, but he felt his presence in that endless space. His perfect silence had been broken, but he knew his gift would come at a price. The Altar, or what he assumed was the altar, had told him of the Ruined King, how he tore this land from the realm of the living and plunged it into death. He had learned of the plan to unite Valoran under a single banner, and that he, Karthus, would be the voice of this campaign. He knew the King would come eventually.
“Why did you come to the Shadow Isles?” The voice dragged on, whispering the words, but they did not float on the air, they drifted through his mind.
Karthus tried speak out loud, but still, words only drifted through his consciousness. “To bask in the silence of death, and experience the clarity that only it can provide.” This method of speech felt, different, natural.
“Death is the great equalizer, it is the barrier that everyone crosses regardless of where their loyalties may lay, however, most attempt fight off this inevitable passing, not embrace it like you have. I sense you already know of my intentions?” The voice trailed off, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I know that you plan to unite Valoran through death, ending the wars once and for all. Everlasting peace, through death, it is, beautiful. I wish to be your voice my king. I will be the one to bestow the gift of death through your words. I will sing them the songs of my people! If you would allow me to that is.” In life, Karthus knew he had not been successful in swaying the hearts of the people around him, but hopefully now, they would have no choice.
“I require a champion Karthus, that will use their gifts to spread my message. Someone who will not squander them on their own agendas, or try to play me for a fool. Will you do this for me Karthus? Will you be the shepherd who leads his sheep through the barrier of death?”
“Absolutely! Let me sing their frail bodies to sleep!”
“Very well, I will remake you, just as the altar had said, but we will not be using that old flesh. I will provide you with something a little more, adequate, that I have kept for a more meaningful occasion. I will also provide you with the power to extinguish those souls which refuse to burn out. You speak of requiems? Here is one to end all others.” There was a long pause, then, an indescribable noise filled the empty space, words that if uttered in Valoran, bring death to all enemies within earshot. This was the unbridled power of the Ruined King, and Karthus was baptized in it. “Remember these words, one day I will call upon you to sing the requiem in it’s entirety, be ready.”
“I will, my liege! Is there anything else?”
“Yes, when you awaken, take your leave to the League of Legends. Let the summoners bear witness to the consequences of their ignorance! Fight for the Shadow Isles! Spread our dark word!” The whispering voice faded away, leaving Karthus in the darkness of that realm.
Karthus reflected on the time he spent in that realm for only a few minutes, then stood up off the altar, letting his new robes fall to his feet, and set off back to Valoran. “Now this should be interesting..”
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