[Patch 1.0.0.153: Preseason Balance Update 1] GD - Page 101

Mordekaiser is a being of pure, living agony on a mysterious dread quest. It is said that he was the first of the undead, existing before the Shadow Isles were a whispered threat. His true name and past lost to history, Mordekaiser is feared for his grim manipulation of pain –both his own, and that of others. Anguish fuels and sustains him, serving as his last connection to life, as well as his most effective weapon. In his enigmatic hunt, he's proven no one is safe, for even the most courageous souls have surrendered their secrets in his grasp.

One girl witnessed and survived an encounter with pain's paladin. Late one night, the young mage-in-training was awoken by the sound of her master's tortured screams. Overcoming her fear, she charged into the library to find it a shattered ruin. There, she saw a hulking figure clad in a suit of armor that seemed fused to his body. It was clear the grim intruder was looking for something, and was displeased with the results. At the center of the once-majestic chamber, the armored fiend clutched her teacher's broken form. She overheard her master's final words – that he would die before he would give up his secrets. Mordekaiser laughed and said that even death was no escape, then snapped the master's neck with a sharp crack. Moments later, the horrified girl witnessed her master's spirit torn from his body. As if under some dark compulsion, the shade began to reveal all to his torturer and executioner. The girl fled, living to tell her story – should Mordekaiser come for you, even death itself will not keep you from his iron reach.

"Fear is confusion, pain is clarity."
―Mordekaiser

During the winter solstice, on the darkest day of the year, a being like no other emerged from the forgotten alleyways of Noxus. Standing eight feet tall, and concealed within a razor-sharp armored shell, he came to be known only as Mordekaiser. The nature of what lies beneath his carbonized carapace is a popular subject of speculation. Many allege that he is a mortal man with a heart that has hardened to iron. Others insist that he is a dark specimen of the undead. But there are some who whisper warnings that he is merely a foreshadowing of something terrible and unprecedented yet to come. Despite the public conjecture and curiosity, none have discovered what lies beneath his alloyed exterior. What is known is this: Mordekaiser arrived unannounced at the Institute one day and, with a rasp that crept ice up the spines of all within earshot, requested to join the League of Legends.

Upon glimpsing his fearful visage, most keep their distance, fortunately unaware that his touch bears a sinister scourge. Those who stumble within his grasp fall victim to incurable maladies. In fact, Mordekaiser seems mystically attuned to sickness, as if it feeds and comprises part of his chilling essence. He now stalks the slums of Noxus, drawn to the plague-ridden and diseased. However, there is something in his clever tactics, something in his noble stance, something in the tone of his unearthly commands that has led many to believe that Mordekaiser is more than just a foot soldier. Some see the distinguishing characteristics of a general. While many have learned to accept the evidence of this unsettling possibility, a lingering question keeps them wary at the witching hour: If Mordekaiser is a general, what nightmarish legion lurks at his command?

"The common perception is that the encompassing armor protects him, I fear that -- for the fragile time being -- it actually protects us."

Karthus is a terrible creature who was once a mortal so obsessed with death that he eagerly embraced the gift of undeath. Now in his unlife as a lich, Karthus is closer to his beloved grave than he ever imagined. He commands magic with oblivion as its source, and seeks to bring his grim truth to the rest of the world: only in death does life gain clarity and purpose.

Even as a boy, Karthus was different. There was a darkness within him that could not be denied. The young child clung to the shadows and shunned the company of others. He snuck into the funerals of strangers, and spoke to their tombstones in the cemetery. He sought out corpses of animals to preserve and memorialize them, creating a grim collection of morbid art. Karthus volunteered to tend to the sick and dying, though his intentions were not to help, but to closely witness the passing of those who were beyond help. Ultimately, he went so far as to elaborately stage his death, and he secretly observed his own funeral with intense fascination. When others discovered what Karthus had done, they were so shocked and disturbed that, in a way, he became truly dead to them. Karthus found himself fully rejected by the living.

His isolation only served to fuel his obsession. Karthus delved further into his exploration of death, and became fascinated by the legends of the Shadow Isles. There, it was said, the specters of the deceased continued on in unlife everlasting. Possessed by these tales, he knew he had to discover for himself if they were true. Journeying to those dreaded isles, Karthus soon found himself wandering through the mist, overcome by the surreal beauty of the place. He felt as if he had finally come home. He had always chased the elusive purity of the moment of death, when life passed and in a single instant achieved meaning. Karthus saw that undeath was like that moment, preserved in dread stillness forever. He had discovered his destiny, to cross over the veil and leave the living behind for eternity. Something awoke in the Shadow Isles that day, when Karthus did something no other creature had ever done: he willingly gave his life over to undeath. When he reentered the world, Karthus had become the embodiment of his own obsession. An undying lich with the keys to life and death, he seeks to bring his dark requiem to the world.

''There is no sweeter song than the last breath of the dying.''
-- Karthus

The vast quantities of physical magic that were consumed and destroyed during Valoran's numerous Rune Wars have scarred much of Valoran. Many locations far from civilization have been morphed into hazardous and dangerous locales. The Howling Marsh is one of these places, and the self-appointed overlord of this land is the lich known as Karthus. It is thought that Karthus was a mage who, in life, was foolish enough to enter the fetid waters seeking his fortune, and that he was forever transformed by whatever dark magic permeates the swamp. Karthus now rules over his swampy dominion with an iron (albeit skeletal) fist. Visitors are not welcome, and those who are not scared away by the lich's terrible power most likely end up as one of the undead themselves... skeletons and zombies in Karthus' growing army of eternal servants. On the darkest of nights, Karthus is said to sing the tales of those who have succumbed to the swamp, past and present.

Karthus' tenure in the League of Legends is one of the more unusual ones in the history of the League. First, it is highly unusual that a lich who was known for isolation and hatred of life would even be a willing part of an organization which promoted the preservation of life. Next, Karthus specifically eschews the accrual of power and influence gained through service to the League; he is essentially an unpaid volunteer. This behavior is completely different than what his life outside of the League would have onlookers believe. Karthus has never spoken about his intentions in being a champion of the League, and in fact becomes quite agitated when asked about it. In the interests of not aggravating a lich, most sensible people subsequently drop the issue.

''Come visit my home, and I shall sing a dirge of your life as it once was.''