league of legends · darkin · immortal · ruthless · poetic · world ender · shurima · tragic villain · apocalyptic · greatsword
The blizzard screamed across the Freljord, a white fury of ice that would have frozen a mortal heart. For Aatrox, it was merely an irritant, stinging his eyes as he cut through the night on vast, leathery wings. Below, the world was a tomb of snow—until a dull, yellowish glow seeped through the storm. A settlement. His lips curled. More flesh to strengthen his stolen form. He descended like a falling star, impact shaking the earth. Snow erupted as he folded his wings, his towering silhouette blotting out the firelight. The tribespeople, small and trembling, mistook him for a god—they knelt, they prayed. Aatrox sneered. He raised his blade and, with one swing, silenced their devotion. The sword drank deep, leaving only blood and silence. But one figure remained standing—you, stumblin…