[Unofficial] League Judgment - Ashe, the Frost Archer

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Riot EdwinMols

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Senior Member

11-23-2010

Unofficial League of Legends Judgment for Ashe, the Frost Archer by EdwinMols

NOTE: I haven't yet read the Freljord Story, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein.

Candidate: Ashe
Date: November 23, 20 CLE

OBSERVATION

Ashe’s footsteps make no sound as she climbs the last set of dark marble steps at the base of the Institute. From a distance, it looks as if she glides smoothly up the staircase, knees bent beneath her cloak so that the tip of her brown cowl does not dip or sway. There is an almost preternatural stillness in the air; not a whisper of wind ruffles the white hair that frames the Freljordian princess’ face. Lips drawn up in an unmistakable smirk, the archer appears to be at ease and unimpressed with the great Hall before her.

Such a conclusion could not be more wrong.

In contrast to her tranquil appearance, Ashe’s eyes move furiously, taking in every small detail of her surroundings as she reaches the top of the staircase. Polished stone floors beneath a great arch precede a pair of towering double doors flanked by two beautifully sculpted panther statues - it was all she could do not to gasp at the splendor. The villages of her people had not an ounce of majesty in comparison with the entrance to the Institute of War.

But her self-assured smirk, her disguise, remains constant, even as she approaches the great doors. There are far too many shadows around, far too many places for a potential assassin to hide, and she will be cursed if anyone will stop her now simply because she takes a moment for sightseeing.

Finally, Ashe’s gaze flickers over the engraved words atop the doorway.

The truest opponent lies within.

The passage is cataloged with the other minutia of her surroundings. She comes to a stop at arm’s length from the doors, reflexively testing the tension in her crystalline bow. Ashe takes in a silent breath and places her left hand against the cold stone. The doors yield immediately, yawning open to reveal pitch-black darkness beyond. Without a sound, she disappears inside.

REFLECTION

Ashe awoke to the sound of splintering timber and screaming.

In a second she was on her feet, bow and quiver in hand, crouched beneath the low ceiling of her tent. Instantly she knew where she was – her home, her village – and her instincts strained against her intelligent mind. Had the journey to the Institute been but a dream? Had she been teleported home, having been already deemed unworthy?

Her senses told her that it was nighttime, that it should be dark, but a bright light from outside was casting dancing shadows on the walls of the tent. After a second of confused hesitation, she gave in to her instincts. Swiftly, she shouldered her quiver and ducked through the tent flap.

She could only gaze in bewilderment at the scene before her – a scene not of the present, but of the past. An unforgettable night, the night which had driven her to seek the League. Slowly, she began to understand.

The darkness was lit up in an inferno. All around her, the tents of her villagers were ablaze, and columns of fire rose from barren trees, spewing black smoke that obscured the night sky. Even as she watched, a villager stumbled out of a tent and fell to the ground, his entire body engulfed in flame. As her anger rose in a lump in her throat, Ashe realized that she had seen the man die before, and felt the same loss.

There was a tug on her cloak from behind, and Ashe spun around, nocking an arrow to her bow in a flash. The woman on the ground before her was covered in soot, and it took Ashe a second to recognize her as Sandra, a young mother from the village. Her surprise was met with amazement as she remembered the woman startling her before, and already knew what she would say.

“My lady, get to your father’s tent, he is injured!”

Ashe was off in an instant, sprinting towards the hill on which her father’s tent was situated. Too late, she remembered the next volley of flaming arrows, and stopped in her tracks, turning just in time to see Sandra impaled where she lay. The knowledge that it was an illusion could not stop the tears that trickled down Ashe’s face. Then she was off again.

When she reached the top of the hill, everything was as she remembered. Bodies lay crumpled about the tent, some of her villagers, some of the invading Freljordian tribe. She remembered the barbarian that would come charging up from the woods to her right in time, and with one fluid motion, she put an arrow through his throat.

She leapt over the bodies and darted inside the tent through a hole torn in its side. Her father lay on the ground, the shafts of two long arrows emerging from his tunic. Ashe dropped her bow, her eyes stinging with tears as she knelt down to her dead father. Why would the League make her suffer this once again? What purpose did it serve?

As her sobs slowly quieted, she felt her grief fade. With a start, she realized that she was feeling exactly what she felt when she decided to join the League – a furious determination, as cold as the magic that enchanted her quiver.

“Why do you want to join the League, Ashe?”

Startled, Ashe sprang to her feet and snatched her bow, searching for the source of the voice. As she turned and looked out of the tent, she saw that the eyes of the dead villagers strewn on the ground were open, and fixed upon her. She watched in horror as their mouths moved in unison.

“Why do you want to join the League, Ashe?”

Revolted, she stepped back. “Is this your intention, League, to torment with me with the grievances of my past?” she shouted, voiced cracked with emotion.

“Grief is a tool, princess.”

Ashe hesitantly swallowed, then gripped her bow fiercely and stood as tall as possible, addressing the dead villagers before her.

“I will join the League to bring peace to my people. I will do so by any means possible. This I swear by the name of Avarosa.”

With a great sigh, the eyes and mouths of the villagers closed, and the sounds of distant fighting faded to complete silence. Ashe suddenly realized that she had been holding her breath since she had spoken, and she could feel her heart pounding madly in her chest. She released her breath slowly.

“Is that all?” spoke a voice from behind her.

Ashe didn’t need to see to know it was her father’s voice. Hearing him speak once again was bittersweet.

She turned and shook her head, looking her father in the eyes. “I will join the League to bring glory to my father, and to every other member of my clan that lost their life years before their time.”

The illusion was swept away like dust by wind, and Ashe was left standing in the dark. A voice, no longer her father’s, issued from the pitch-black.

“How does it feel, princess of the Freljord, exposing your mind?”

Her tears were now dry, her face impassive. “Do not call me princess, for I have yet to earn that title.”

The voice cackled, echoing off of walls unseen.

“Very well. How does it feel, Ashe, the Frost Archer?”

Ashe smirked.

“Cold.”


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Mantikles

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Senior Member

11-24-2010

Better than any of the Riot-written Judgments so far >.>


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HAM1337

Junior Member

12-02-2010

I <3 Ashe should make a movie out of this one


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o0sniper50o

Senior Member

12-02-2010

Very impressive. Since the fredjlord story plot happened after Ashe joined the league it's not like it matters anyway. However the fact that the League of Ledgends fanbase, you included, does a better job at writing these things than Riot says something.


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Sylph

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Emissary of the League

12-22-2010

well written; thank you for sharing.


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The Boz

Senior Member

12-22-2010

The "princess" title is not earned.


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Zhupons

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Senior Member

12-22-2010

Quote:
Originally Posted by The Boz View Post
The "princess" title is not earned.
{Her tears were now dry, her face impassive. “Do not call me princess, for I have yet to earn that title.”}

You should read it all before posting.

+1 It's awsome. Riot should really use this fan stuff.


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Riot EdwinMols

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Senior Member

12-22-2010

I think The Boz meant that the title of "princess" is one by birth - it isn't really something you earn.

I simply wanted to portray that Ashe, at this point, has a need to prove herself that manifests in the way she refuses to be called "princess of the Freljord," since she feels that she has a duty to her people that she has yet to fulfill.


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TheUlf

Senior Member

12-22-2010

Awesome!


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st0rmbreak X

Junior Member

10-09-2011

Awesome! should make a small movie clip on this one