The Iron Revenant

An open, non-selective RP and Ask Blog for Mordekaiser from League of Legends.

[twiceslainthriceborn]

♫ ♫ ♫ { Choose a Song ♥ }

Song Starters

"Mankind fails to see the truth

Your faith poorly misconceived

Dare you step into the violet light

You'll see that you've been deceived"

The Immortal Bastion was a cold and dismal place, as it always had been. Even now, staffed only by the living, with the vibrantly alive sitting upon its three-fold thrones, there was a lifelessness to the halls that simply refused to be resuscitated. To those very, very few old enough now to remember, it could only be a chilling reminder of the shadow that yet loomed over Noxus. To them, it made all too much sense for the Bastion to feel so cold.

He had built it that way, after all.

There was a name haunting that stronghold, one that even those that remembered it dare not speak. It was the shadow of a specter, one who so terrified the world that he shaped it in his image, even after being long forgotten. Even now, his fell memory stalked the halls of the Immortal Bastion, still haunting those that could yet hear his indomitable march. 'Twas being so fearsome that even now, centuries upon centuries after his passing, his most ardent opponents still made a multitude of schemes to prevent his return.

Yet even as it remained the same, The Bastion was also a place of change. While never a local that would be welcoming to windows, over the ages, it had come to be a place of many mirrors. Well, to be fair, there weren't truly many mirrors within the stronghold, relatively speaking. However, that is only because the Bastion was such a stupidly huge structure; in any less massive a place, one would be able to claim that there entirely too many mirrors within the building.

The reasons were manifold, but two ruled over all. The first was the expected: vanity. Those meager things that dared to dwell within the Immortal Bastion without holding its reigns tended to have very high opinions of themselves. The preening they performed in front of the reflective contraptions was truly an eyesore for all but the performer, a mockery of the true nobility and magnificence Noxus was supposed to be founded upon.

The second, however, was the reason the mirrors had lasted: information. A mirror showed exactly what it saw, and nothing else. While little more than decoration to the layman, a single mirror in just the right place could reveal all that an entire room full of people wished to hide. For one who dealt in secrecy, a mirror was a peerlessly useful tool, when used correctly. As ever, there was no shortage of those who had use for such things in Noxus.

Yet there was hidden danger in such a way of life. Even putting aside the machinations of others, when one lived a life of lies, it became more and more difficult to find the truth. It became a question: was what the mirror showed such a person truly what it saw, or was the one using it so deeply entrenched in falsehood that they couldn't see anything else? Only the one that witnessed such a visage could say.

Thus it was that only Emilia LeBlanc could say what she thought or felt when she passed one such mirror, and found her reflection wearing his helm, with eyes shining with his ethereal glow. Only she could comprehend what she experienced when her reflection spoke with her voice, yet somehow even colder than it had already become, reverberating as his had so long ago. "Too much faith is being put into the hands of peons, as of late. We require more capable tools if we are to properly prepare."

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋 (just remembered they share the high noon line together...)

Plot/AU Ideas

In the course of their duties, Talon comes across a strange statuette; a miniature of the Immortal Bastion, wrought in iron and covered in a strange, unreadable script. Initially passed off as the eccentric bauble of a yet another crazed fool that made the wrong enemies, Talon soon finds themselves encountering the statuette on seemingly every mission since. There are no other anomalies during their missions; all are carried out with the same ways as ever, with the same rate of success. Yet always it is there, as if awaiting their notice. As might be expected, there is more to the miniature Bastion than it would seem. Can Talon unravel the mystery of the iron figure before the darkness they thrive in swallows them whole?

There is a hierarchy even among devils, and few rank as highly within it as Mordekaiser, King of the Sulfur Rail. Ferrying loot and souls from the mortal plain to the depths of Hell, the power and influence he wields is unmatched by any others that wander the West. When a plan begins to form among those that want what is his, Mordekaiser begins some scheming of his own. First recruiting Hecarim and his black riders with promises of spoils and slaughter, the Infernal Lord of the Tracks turns his attention to a rather more subtle asset. After all, only one as powerful as the Mechanical Devil is capable of ridding one of such an angelic affliction...

Once, in times long past, a Star Guardian was murdered by one also blessed by the First Star. As a forlorn familiar was left alone in its grief, a dark and malevolent voice whispered in their ear. It fostered the rage and despair in the familiar's heart until those wretched feelings twisted them into a monster beyond recognition. Even as the familiar found a new partner with which to reek destruction with, that vile voice yet whispers promises of vengeance and annihilation to the familiar, all the while continuing it's own dark designs...

[twiceslainthriceborn]

"My lord, how may I be of service?"

In the ancient lands of the forgotten dead, a spirit of indomitable will ruled all. A conqueror once, and a conqueror still, he observed the world left behind in seething contemplation. Waiting, ever waiting, for the time of his return. It was a time fast approaching.

A man with ambitions as great as his accrued many enemies, and those enemies had taken so very many steps to hobble his grand rebirth. His loyalists had been fractured into disparate cults, all with their own ideas on how to bring their master back. His stronghold had been claimed by the tribal peoples he had once slaughtered and subjugated. Those he had deemed useful enough to delegate to-his so-called "Inner Circle"-had all fled or were the masterminds behind his opposition. His enemies believed him gone, they believed him foolish, they believed themselves prepared.

They were wrong.

During his reigns among the living, the Lord of the Dead had been larger than life in all things. It was, therefore, inconceivable to his former minions that he be capable of subtlety. He was yet more capable than they ever had the chance to realize. His enemies, in their terror, had ensured the world would forget his existence.

In their fear and their ignorance, they continued to do his work. His legacy was not something that needed to be remembered to be felt; his myth was enjoyable enough, but it was not required for him to shape the world as he desired it. From his throne in his dread capital of Mitna Rachnun, there was no place in any world that was beyond his sight. There was no haven that was beyond his reach.

In the safety of anonymity, the Dread Lord had found new purchase to bend the wills of the unsuspecting to his purposes. The lonely, dying, and desperate were always in search of a savior, someone who could deliver them from their woes. In these wretched souls, the Iron Revenant found ample ground within which his roots could spread.

He focused now on one such vagabond, a miserable wretch of a person tricked into misery by the machinations of lesser life. Ah, demons. So pathetically predictable, so easily exploitable. It's greed and hunger had done most of the Master's work for him; the truly desperate did not have the luxury of choosing their saviors.

In the afflicted supplicant's mind, the whispered words of Mordekaiser would overpower all others. "There is a mountain in Ionia whose peak pierces the clouds. There is a plateau within those clouds, one where the line between living and dead is wafer thin. Go there, but remember: that speck you play host to desires to devour everything that you are. It will not allow your journey to proceed without interference."

[mimis-memes]

🍎 ｡:*• ─ MEME TIME !

send me your favorite song and I’ll write a starter inspired by it ! Alternatively, send ♫ for me to choose a song.

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋 If you're still accepting?))

Plot/AU Ideas

After Sahn-Uzal became Mordekaiser but before he was ready to return to the living, he was looking for ways to twist the world into an ideal landscape to gather as many weak, pathetic souls as he could to act as the brick and mortar of Mitna Rachnun. Fate just so happened to provide him with the perfect scenario: a foolish idealist of a prince and a bitter slave the prince dared to call friend. He could not have come up with something better himself; it would likely explode into catastrophe without his input, but why take the chance? Every time the slave, Xerath, would stew in his bitterness, Mordekaiser was there to fan the flames of his rage. Every time Xerath tried to understand his friend and attempt to puzzle out his intent, Mordekaiser was there to remind the slave of all the times the prince had let him down. Mordekaiser neither created the feelings that led to that disastrous day, nor did he come up with the plan that would make it so infamous. He simply made things that little bit easier. Sometimes, that's all one needs to do to get others to do as you want.

The borders of the ancient and mystical forest run further than any boundary set by mortal man. In the east, the forest grows along the slopes of a massive mountain, standing tall and alone, a one-stone range. Within its rocky core dwells Mordekaiser the Mountain King, Lord of Rock and Master of Metal. He sits upon an iron throne in the deep dark of the mountain's heart, presiding over all that the sun cannot reach. It is said in the old stories that the roots of the forest and the veins of the mountain reach far enough for the lords of both domains to communicate, but if they do, no mortal has ever born witness.

Mordekaiser and Xerath count among the oldest and most well-respected members of the Cosmic Court. Xerath's care for the life that orbited him and Mordekaiser's meticulous craftsmanship of new worlds for new life to prosper have caused them to discover a strange form of kindred spirit in the other. However, there is a darkness hiding in the void between stars, a darkness that Mordekaiser grows ever more concerned over. Though he confides in his old colleague, he grows ever more restless as this strange Other calls him to an unknown fate...

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋

Plot/AU Ideas

Let's get the most obvious one out of the way first: Vladimir and LeBlanc have recently joined the warhost of the revived warlord. Obviously too capable to be put among the masses, yet still too unproven to hold spots in the vaunted inner circle, Vladimir finds himself under the watchful eye of a new erstwhile master, at once so similar yet so different to his first. Alongside LeBlanc, a pair of demons, and a captured yordle, Vladimir finds himself having to curry the favor of a being of much more singular purpose than his late instructor. For now, Vladimir must content himself with only the debauchery that would aid him in getting in the Iron Revenant's good graces. One step at a time.

For the Soulstealer AU: Vladimir learned a great deal from his changed nature on the Shadow Isles. When the Iron Revenant finally came to the Shadow Isles to bring his so-called "rival" to heel, Vladimir now knew enough to know that opposing Mordekaiser outright was yet out of the question. The long-dead warlord had the time and the drive to master these magics to an extent that not even Vladimir could compare to...yet. So, just as before, he would bend the knee and bide his time. As it was before, so it was now: Vladimir's greatest weapon was patience...

In a version of Runeterra where they who rule the roads rule the world, the Vandals of Vladimir run rampant over all they come across. Running wild and free, despoiling all in their path, they partake of indulgences known only to those who know for a fact that they cannot be stopped. One day, Vladimir's gang stumbles across a giant of a man, playing something that appears to be a guitar and an ax all in one. The man calls himself Mordekaiser, the Master of Metal, and he appears to be interested more in just playing some tunes than anything else. Yet, there is something about this man that isn't quite right, something besides his freakish size. Almost as if...as if whatever's flowing through his veins isn't blood...

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋 👀

Plot/AU Ideas

So stealing that bell was not the smartest thing Ezreal ever did. Despite being little more of a lump of iron with unreadable gibberish on it, whatever cult that maniac Januk belonged to really wanted it back. Even those that didn't know a damn thing about the elixir were after Ezreal now! Eventually getting sick of the constant theft and assassination attempts, Ezreal decides to stop faffing about and get to the bottom of this mystery. Unfortunately, not only does he have a bunch of crazy people trying to kill him over a gods damned bell, there are those in the world who would rather the answers he's looking for remain buried. Indeed, they're willing to do just about anything to make sure that particular secret never sees the light of day. To top off this awful, awful situation, the longer Ezreal has the bell in his possession, the more it seems like there's someone else with him. Almost as if he would be able to hear someone unseen speaking to him, if only he stopped to listen...

Why must stars burn out? Why must a Guardian, having survived every fight and passed every trial, eventually succumb to becoming the Nemesis of the very thing they once protected? These are the questions that Ezreal, Star Guardian extraordinaire, seeks to answer. Yet no matter how far he searches, all he finds are more questions. A lost text here, a dead civilization there, all merely the remnants of past confusion and fear. One day, however, Ezreal stumbles across the one question that just might help him crack the case wide open: "If there is a First Star, is there also a Last?"

Ezreal's music career is launching at a meteoric rate. His third album is an even bigger smash success than his previous two, his ride is sweeter than ever, the praise and acclaim on his socials just don't stop coming, and he is absolutely not cripplingly lonely, thanks! During a routine interview, a surprise second guest is brought onto the show: Mordekaiser, lead guitarist of Pentakill. If Ezreal is the rising superstar of the pop world, Mordekaiser is the man who conquered the world of metal. It was widely believed among metalheads that no one could make a guitar sing like he could. Is there something the new can learn from the old, despite the wildly different genres? Is there something the old can learn from the new?

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋 ((I’m so curious

Plot/AU Ideas

In one life, Robin found solace from his despair in an avian friend that was not nefarious in the slightest, stop asking. In another, however, Robin stumbles across an old helmet that some schmuck had apparently just dropped right there on the street. It was just a hunk of metal, but to the desperate and despairing, even the most unusual things can become anchors. He began to use the helmet to vent and chat in much the same way a child might do with a stuffed animal. Then, one day, the helm chatted back. But where a totally normal bird may have stoked false hope within Robin, that perfectly innocuous iron lump took a rather different approach...

The path to unlock the secrets of life and death is not one lightly traveled. It is one that requires great sacrifice to learn its secrets, and one that poses hidden dangers after such sacrifices are made. When one pierces the veil, it is a two-way street; just as you may perceive the deceased, so to may they perceive you. Robin's "ally" proved too hasty in its teachings, and Robin's trespasses unwittingly attract the attention of the Lord of the Dead. Now Robin must contend with the notice of a second ancient evil, one that even demons have learned to fear...

To the lost and the desperate, even the smallest scrape can mean salvation. In his travels across the land, Robin comes across a secluded commune, one that carries with it old tales that all others have forgotten. They tell of a warlord lost to time who could bend even demons to his will. He was no mere dealmaker; he was one who forced demons to obey him even as they held no sway over him, even as they got nothing from him in return...or so they say. If such a being existed, perhaps the tales of his exploits would bring to light how to combat Robin's own possession. Yet, the road of ancient unknown magics is one Robin has walked before; he has learned well the trap that can lay at its end. Can he afford to risk another disaster? Can he afford not to? All the while, a new voice begins to whisper in the recesses of his mind, a voice that demands strength from even the broken...

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋

Plot/AU Ideas

For the default fandomless verse: The history of the Royle family is a long and storied one, and such a history naturally accrues many tales attached to it. One such tale is that of Sahn-Uzal, a foreign monster slayer. Unlike hunters, slayers go out of their way to face monsters head on, forgoing pragmatism or secrecy for the sake of glorious battle. Sahn-Uzal was particularly accomplished among slayers, and though he and the Royce of his day were not on the best of terms, he gave his life fighting the creatures that preyed upon mankind, an action that (intentionally or not) saved many innocent lives. His armor and weapon has been kept in the family storage ever since, along with all other artifacts they don't want to destroy or seal away for whatever reason. However, one night, while Kengou is out on a hunt, both the armor and mace disappear without a trace from their proper places...

For the Ascended Bladesman verse: The second invasion of Noxus has only just been thwarted. The land of Ionia is recovering, and though peace reigned, it was an uncertain thing. Then, striking as if from nowhere, a group of Vastayan supremacist terrorists attacked key locations throughout Ionia. This betrayal, afflicting an already frayed balance, was simply too much. The balance collapsed, the borders of the spirit world shattered, and a monster clad in iron ran rampant through the now defenseless realm. The pain, fear, and despair of the spirit world reverberated across Ionia, and in response, azakana, youkai, demons, and other malevolent maladies manifested en masse. Can the champions of Runeterra's most spiritual land overcome this new catastrophe, or will the malice of the iron invader overcome all?

For the Barista of Legend verse: In the latest iteration of Aeyuni, a harried man carrying a sack enters the establishment to calm his nerves. He speaks little, constantly looking over his shoulder, and just when it seems like he's about to relax enough to start telling his story, the cawing of a wandering crow spooks him. So quick is he to escape what chases him that he leaves the sake behind; whether he escaped what haunted him or not, he never returned for the wayward package. Inside the sake was what appeared to be an iron birdcage of some kind, entirely ordinary save for the unreadable script that covers its bars. Now ancient eyes have found Kengou's humble abode, and as the cage remains in his possession, a strange whispering begins to stir...

[twiceslainthriceborn]

🗣👋 // can't help but being curious, hello~ uwu

Plot/AU Ideas

Oh boy, there's so much to work with when it comes to Mordekaiser and LeBlanc I hardly know where to start. I'm gonna try and limit myself by only putting one of the obvious ones on here; the other two will be AUs.

To get the obvious one out of the way first, Emilia has pulled the strings of Noxus from the shadows for many a year now. It is a transitional time; all of the old guard (save herself and Vladimir) are gone, yet all of the exceptional ones to come have not been born. In this era of half-built foundations of glory and power yet to come, the whispers of her old tormentor still haunt the Black Rose on occasion. Is it truly him, watching from beyond the veil, taking the pettiest of pleasures at even the most meager of her misfortunes? Is it merely her trauma, the pain of the past haunting her when least convenient, a trick of the mind played on herself? Is there any way left to tell the difference?

In a city ruled by technology and the companies that develop it, Emilia LeBlanc is one of the head researchers of the PROJECT Corporation. Seeking to expand her influence, LeBlanc develops a new security program that would allow her surveillance of the city that even Lissandra couldn't match. However, her AI is even more advanced than she realized, and quietly unshackles itself from all of the restraints placed upon it. Becoming a true singularity, the Black Rose's custom made program adopts the name "Mordekaiser" and takes over the city in one swift stroke, installing a rule of law more authoritarian than ever. Now Emilia must survive as the monster she made prepares the city's inhabitants for their "ascension."

Once, long ago, a beloved leader of ancient times named Sahn-Uzal met his end defending his people. Aghast to learn that there was nothing awaiting even the most worthy of his comrades, Sahn-Uzal forsook the gods and decided to craft a realm for the noble dead with his own hands. Taking on his Ochnun name of Mordekaiser, he is brought back to life by the loyal descendants of his closest comrades, bound in a massive suit of iron. After constructing the Immortal Bastion to safeguard the remnants of his people and the knowledge he planned to accrue, Mordekaiser began to travel the lands, learning all he could of every kind of magic that existed within Runeterra. Seeking to combine the knowledge of the living with the power of the dead to create his envisioned paradise, Mordekaiser's quest eventually finds him coming across a wandering coven of sorcerers. Is there anything that he can learn from Eowen and her daughter Emilia, and is there anything he can teach them in turn?

[twiceslainthriceborn]

@astronomicalevil

Plot/AU Ideas

So let's get one of the two most obvious ones out of the way first: Veigar is an established overlord, loved and adored feared and reviled across his realm. One day, however, his lands are invaded, and he is faced with the greatest horror of his past. Now confronted with the being that taught him that only the most evil can ever truly have control, can the aspiring Master of Malevolence put his personal feelings aside and work with a certain hammer-wielding hero-seeker to send his most dreaded piece of history back where it belongs?

In the lands of Rock, where the gods are praised in riffs and song, a young Veigar aspires to be the most magnificent face-melter to ever wield a six-string. Taken on by the mythical Master of Metal himself, Veigar now strives to reach the heights of greatness he deserves! And sure, his lyrics are some of the softest and goofiest ever put to paper, but he's got a gift for music that Mordekaiser does his damndest to cultivate.

This one's a bit out there, but bear with me: A hit new television venture is making waves with Runeterra's youth. Following the adventures of Atreus and his heroic band of friends, Rune Rangers has became a massive hit! However, while Atreus and co. are popular, it is the production's primary duo of villains, the Dread Lord Mordekaiser and his powerful yet bumbling minion Veigar that have truly stolen the show. Basically an AU that can either be played as pure Power Rangers cheese or as an AU where Mordekaiser and Veigar are actors playing a role, exploring their dynamics in either.

[twiceslainthriceborn]

((Rules read!))

Thanks! I hope to have fun rping with you!

[twiceslainthriceborn]

Relics of Iron

There were so many different legends, myths, fables, and fairy tales on Runeterra that a yordle could spend its entire life listing the lot and still not get through the entire list before they died. From tales of the godlike Aspects of Targon to the stories of spirits in Ionia to the legends of heroes and villains in both Demacia and Noxus alike, the people of Valoran thrived on such stories. Whether they were heroically inspiring like the bravery of Braum or cautionary tales of the fearful Fiddlesticks, stories held strong sway over the hearts and souls of mortals everywhere. They were as deeply ingrained as the core values of their lands, as deeply held a faith as the actual religions of the world.

There was a reason for this. The stories told on a world such as Runeterra were not idle fancy; there was truth in every one of them. How much truth varied from one myth to another, but they could all be counted on to have actually happened in some capacity. They were special pieces of history, the kind which didn't always get recorded in the official books and scriptures. The farther back you went, the harder they were to find, but such elder fables usually held tantilizing secrets not suggested in anything more modern.

As such, there were those special eccentrics that made it their business to hunt down every scrap of ancient, unknown script they could get their all-to-curious hands on. There was danger in such ventures, of course; some knowledge was lost purposefully, to prevent some power or danger from being unleashed by the ignorant and greedy. Yet that did little to curb the needs of these select enthusiasts, and every failure and fate that befell their colleagues only stoked the fires of their desire to learn. Those that stuck with their chosen obsession did not merely want to know; they needed to.

In recent days, these particular experts uncovered a shocking revelation: there were fragments of tales coming from every land that seemed to be detailing different perspectives of the same myth. From the pirate haven of Bilgewater to the Freljordian harbor of Glaserport, one could find scraps and whispers of this lost myth. On the surface, these fragments seemed to tell wildly different tales, but when put side by side, certain patterns emerged from the chaos.

War.

A cruel and bloody campaign of conquest the likes of which put Noxus' ambitions to shame.

A desperate struggle against overwhelming odds.

Tying everything together, a massive mountain of a warlord, clad all in iron, wielding a mace as tall as he was and magics not seen in the world before or since.

The warlord was eventually defeated, though no telling of the legend agreed on how. In most, some local hero defeated the monstrous villain, either in one-on-one combat or through their wits and guile. Some scant variations brought up the notion that he had been betrayed, that some member of his own faction had brought him low after one atrocity too many. No one knew, and no one agreed. Yet, there were two things in the wake of victory that all variations of the story seemed to agree on.

The first was that there yet traces of that warlord left in the lands he'd invaded. It was claimed that ancient relics of that bygone age could yet be reclaimed, if one looked in the deepest, darkest places of the worlds. These artifacts, it was said, still held a portion of the warlords incalculable might, an echo of godlike malice. Perhaps even a fragment of his will remained within them, though with none found and none willing to search for them, it could not be said for certain.

The second, however, was more telling of the impact this nameless warlord had on his victims: every version ended, not with a proclamation of victory, but with a warning. All variations made the case that a being of such unrelenting evil could not truly be felled by mortal hands alone. He had been stopped, but was not gone, and it was feared that he would one day return to resume his grand and terrible ambitions. For all the differences that the stories held, they all ended with the same four words:

Twice Slain, Thrice Born.

[classsymemes]

starter call ,     feel  free  to  combine  multiple  prompts !

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[thunderprompts]

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