League of Discord

by Ghosted Note

Chapter 1: The League

League of Discord

By Ghosted Note

Chapter 1: The League

“Summoning is complicated. Not the type of complicated that entails studiously memorizing a
few magic words, painting some strange looking symbols on the ground, and recitation reminiscent of
bad poetry. Summoning is complicated in a manner that entails devoting the majority of your life to a
fundamental understanding of all facets of magic and their interactions, pouring the entirety of yourself
into your craft, and still only being worthy of the title of Junior Summoner. Truth be told, these minor
representatives of the summoning craft still hold enough power to subdue some of the most powerful
entities of Runeterra. This brings home the reality of the power held in the hands of their seniors, the
Summoners of Valoran’s League of Legends. “

“What is summoning, you ask? Well, actually, you probably don’t, seeing as you probably all
have some twisted notion of it floating around in your head already. Contrary to popular opinion,
summoning doesn’t refer to the act of bringing one of the League’s champions to the battlefield and
guiding them. Summoning refers to the act of calling forth magic from all schools and binding them
together in an act that not only can transport a champion, but also establish a link between the two that
essentially combines a part of the Summoner’s consciousness with that of the champion. This is what
enables the pair to work as a team. Of course, stabilizing this link takes a little time, which is why you
tend to see escalating intensity in a match as time goes on as Summoners settle into their champion’s
mind, so to speak, but we’ve been making huge strides in that field recently, with the recent test runs on
the Crystal Scar demonstrating a newer summoning technique that drastically decreases the amount of
time it takes to synch with a champion. “

The speaker, a blue-skinned, black-bearded human wearing a suit that obscured most of the
tattoos that covered every inch of his body, turned from the chalkboard to regard the class, a mixture of
enraptured children who hadn’t quite gotten over who their guest speaker was. Despite his sometimes
impatient and harsh demeanor, Ryze had a bit of a soft spot for children, and the students of the
Institute of War’s outreach program for the magically gifted had been an excellent audience, giving
the League champion undivided attention. “But to answer your question,” Ryze nodded to one of the
students in the front row before continuing, “No, summoning isn’t easy, but yes, there’s a chance,
if you’re truly serious about it, that you can join the ranks of the Summoners one day. After all, this
outreach program isn’t just to educate the next generation of magic users on how to practice magic
responsibly, but to also scout out the best of the best, the most determined, the most studious students
here so that they might one day get an official League stipend to learn at the Institute of War. So work
hard, learn everything you can, and you just might find yourself face to face with champions like me,
only this time, we’ll be working together.”

-------

Ryze was one of the more qualified of the League of Legend’s magical champions. He had
studied his craft and nearly perfected it, despite shunning formal education in favor of searching the
world of Runeterra for those who taught magic beyond the boundaries of those who practiced magic on
his native continent of Runeterra. The magicians of the various city-states of Valoran were impressive in
their own right, but far too limited and restrained for someone who felt as innate a connection to magic
as Ryze did. Thus, after years and years of travelling, and learning among shamans, cultists, and anyone
else who might shed a new drop of wisdom in his quest for magic, Ryze had finally returned to Valoran
for one final study. Aided by the forgotten art of thorn magic, Ryze had quite literally tattooed magic
into the essence of his being, his blue coloration and decorated body a testament to his dedication.
Now, his new teacher was combat. The League of Legends would accept, after some testing, most
beings of immense power to fight in the pitched battles that now decided the fate of Valoran. Ryze
was determined to study under his new teachers in an entirely different way, examining firsthand the
methods and power of Valoran’s most deadly beings.

The League, of course, was delighted to have Ryze join their ranks, yet another tool in the
League’s quest to ensure war would never break out on Valoran. After the devastating Rune Wars,
which had laid waste to Valoran in times past, the League of Legends had been established to help
encourage conflict resolution in a manner that didn’t cause permanent damage to the world. Though
convincing Valoran that their plan could work was tricky, the Summoners, powerful mages who in
times past had lead the factions in the Rune Wars, had determined that the only way for Valoran to
survive was for large scale conflict to be eliminated. Fortunately, Ryze was not lying when saying that
Summoners were the most powerful mages of Runeterra, and soon the primary city-states of Demacia
and Noxus had ceased their endless struggling and submitted to the will of the League. The various city-
states of Bandle City, Piltover, and Zaun were slightly less troublesome to convert, and even the ever-
aloof Ionia had eventually, for the sake of its own survival against the opportunistic Noxians, joined the
League. Valoran had been saved, though scars of the Rune War still existed, if the magically unstable
lands below the Great Barrier were any testament.

Now, however, Ryze was serving less as the student of combat and more as a teacher of what
he considered to be the most irritating student possible. “Blasted boy, can’t you do anything right
without your precious glove?! Focus! Draw the magic up, and control how fast you release it. Treat it like
drawing water from a well. Use only as much as you need, and don’t let a drop spill. Don’t just sling it
out all over the place!”

The young man in front of him sighed in frustration, his mind wandering off to the caves
and ruins he’d much rather be exploring and mapping. Ezreal was naturally gifted at both magic and
cartography. His passion for the former, though, was completely dwarfed by his desire to find every
detail about unexplored lands and ancient ruins, and his maps were considered the most accurate
on Valoran. His love of exploration had driven him to abandon the magical studies that had never

really interested him. It had been quite a windfall when he had, while delving into the pyramids that
littered the abandoned Shurima Desert, found an amulet that allowed for the easy manipulation of
magic provided a magical source was nearby. Since the amulet was made for a being far larger than the
standard human, Ezreal had it embedded into a specialized glove, and used it as a method of controlling
his magic without any serious effort or study. However, Ezreal soon found out the caveat of wielding
such power, when the amulet’s natural attunement to summoning magic had landed him in the League
by accident. Though initially annoyed to be pried away from his explorations, and somewhat skeptical
of the League’s efforts at controlling war, he had eventually decided that occasionally being summoned
wasn’t a huge price to pay for using the amulet, and that making a difference in the world could be
worth it anyway.

What brought the normally unconcerned man before Ryze today was a different story. Though
Ezreal didn’t have as much zeal as many of the League’s champions, he still had a bit of personal pride,
and lately his performances in the League matches had been somewhat…lackluster, to say the least. So,
to rectify this, Ezreal swallowed his reservation and suppressed his boredom(at least for the most part),
and pleaded with the most well-traveled mage in the League to help him refine his magical technique,
in hopes that the wisdom Ryze might impart would help Ezreal to recover from his recent slump.
Even mentally prepared though, the tattooed mage proved a challenging taskmaster for the ‘Prodigal
Explorer’ (Ezreal wasn’t sure why, but the League had a habit of appending titles to the champions’
names). Ryze, expecting the worst when it came to someone as unfocused as Ezreal, was, at least from
his perspective, going extremely easy on the younger magic user, only having been convinced to help
because it seemed like a hanging offense to him that magical talent such as Ezreal’s should go to waste.

Gathering up his willpower once more, Ezreal searched his mind for the familiar blob of power
that always seemed to dance around the corners of his consciousness. Mentally wrestling with this
presence in his mind, he struggled to keep himself focused enough to will the power into the form he
desired. After a few agonizing minutes of doing his best to ignore the wanderlust that told him this was
a waste of time, Ezreal’s efforts yielded success, the bolt of lightning flickering violently between his
outstretched hands. He gave a cocky smile to his teacher, and laughed. “See, no problem this time, and
not even any electrical burns!”

Ryze wasn’t impressed. “Shut up and keep concentrating. You’re wasting power every time the
electricity branches or flickers. I want a solid, unwavering beam of electrical energy, not some weak little
shock bolt you can barely keep control of. Focus, and contain the power, and will it into the form you
want. It isn’t enough to simply will lightning into existence if you don’t control its movement.”

Ezreal had been having almost no progress mastering lightning in a precise and controlled
manner, which was the precise reason that his tattooed elder had chosen it as a starting point. Not
only did it need to be made apparent both to the teacher and the student the extent to which Ezreal’s
precision and control were lacking, but lightning by its very nature strained against being controlled. The
mental exercise was, despite a lack of visible results, paying off, if slowly. Ryze grimaced as he recalled
the last attempt that the kid had made, which had resulted in a small crater in the floor of the practice
room that he had requisitioned from the Institute of War, not to mention a slew of electrical burns

and some minor heart damage. Luckily, the healers at the League’s home were held with conviction by
the belief that all League champions were either criminally insane or unbelievably stupid, so they were
more than prepared for the relatively minor injuries that came when one of the venerated warriors
was practicing some new move, or attempting to assassinate one of their fellow champions with a
convoluted scheme that involved bribing about half of the Institute of War at one point or another.
Ryze scowled, more from his disgust at the petty political games played here than at Ezreal’s laughable
attempts at real magic. There were more important things to dwell on than stupid political games,
though. Ryze mentally prepared himself for another attempt at drilling discipline into his student, and
returned to his harrowing task.

---

Jericho Swain’s face remained the placid mask that it usually was as he made his way to the
main building of the Institute of War. Even when the so-called ‘Master Tactician’ allowed himself the
momentary flicker of annoyance from this failed scheme or that, nobody ever saw him flinch, even
as his latest attempt to take the leadership of Noxus had fallen through. Though his frail body and
crippled right leg might have suggested otherwise, Swain was a strong man. The Noxian ideal was a
true meritocracy; let strength and the will to use it be rewarded accordingly. Swain, in his own way,
exemplified this. Despite his disability, he had risen through the ranks of the much-feared Noxian
Military with astounding speed, and within what had seemed to many like the blink of an eye, secured
his position as a General, one of the primary ruling council of the city-state of Noxus. There was only
one position higher in the militaristic society, and it was something Swain had been working toward
since he had first made his presence known in Noxus. It was his intent to prove his strength to Noxus, to
show that he was strong enough to lead the city-state and make it stronger than any other. He was the
epitome of mental fortitude and ability, and he would be rewarded accordingly.

As if sensing the agitation that no other being could, the proud-looking raven that Swain was
never seen without muttered its dark reassurance to the Noxian, looking at him with six luminous
eyes of pure red. Swain nodded and murmured his own soft acknowledgement back to his longest
and fondest companion, the ever present reminder to all of what Swain was truly capable of. Nobody
had any memory of Swain without the raven, and nobody had the nerve to ask. Of course, rumors ran
rampant about the nature of Swain’s connection to the bird, but there was nothing more solid than the
sour grapes that fell rotten from the vineyards of speculation. Some thought that Swain controlled the
bird, or that the bird controlled Swain and was some sort of otherworldly demon, but all agreed that the
creature was not a normal raven, evidenced just as much by reports of the creature assisting Swain in
combat as much as the bird’s frightening visage.

Nonetheless, the familiar presence was a slight comfort to the otherwise solitary man. The
Master Tactician found the presence of almost all people less than enchanting, instead preferring the
more detached activities of plotting and planning over pursuing companionship. There had only been

two other people in Runeterra who had been truly capable of understanding and maybe even relating
to him, and now there was only one. Boram Darkwill, Grand General of Noxus and Swain’s only worthy
opponent, was dead, another gear in the machine that trembled and groaned under the weight of
Swain’s ambition as it lifted him from obscurity to the rank of general, a member of the war council that
decided affairs in Noxus’ militaristic society. There was only one more step for him now, and that was to
fill the seat of the only one who had ever truly challenged him.

Everything for Swain had been leading up to the moment which he rapidly was approaching.
Even his acceptance into the League of Legends had both been working toward fulfilling his ambitions,
though lately his League duties had been proving slightly annoying, but Swain weathered the pathetic
power mongering of the various rival Summoners, garnering favors and influence where he could and
slowly adding more of the people who could be accurately described as Valoran’s most potent resource
to the list of those who, sometimes unwittingly, served his cause. Of course, this kind of reward didn’t
have a cost, and Swain knew the time had come to put aside his machinations to attend to the more
visceral of his duties. It was time to prepare for his next match.

---

Six Summoners, six champions; two teams of three champions augmented and directed by their
Summoners. It was an arrangement less common than the traditional configuration of two teams of five,
but for minor political disputes such as the one currently being settled, some trivial Summoner
infighting, the quicker pace and shorter resolution times made combat on the lesser of the Fields of
Justice, dubbed ‘The Twisted Treeline’, a little more appealing.

Swain waited silently for the magic of the Summoners to call him forth in the pre-summoning
chamber that was designated for his team. Beside him were two figures. The first was a familiar giant of
a man, somewhat lanky, almost completely covered in bandages, bearing a large spiked shield on one
arm, and an even larger luminescent bottle of a toxic-looking green liquid on his back, the trademark
poison of Singed, dubbed the Mad Chemist. Truth be told, what he lacked was not sanity, but restraint.
Like most citizens of the city-state of Zaun, he held himself unfettered by petty morality and regard for
life in pursuit of progress, a testament to this being his scarred visage and his faintly glowing eyes, which
had a sickly lime green in place of irises or retinas. The master chemist often lacked human test subjects
for his terrifying concoctions, and as a result he had often settled for the only human he could obtain for
his tests…himself.

The second of the two was a young woman who was doing a poor job of containing her hostility
toward the others behind a mask of professionalism. Adorned with various pieces of armor and
equipment that seemed like an incomplete ensemble, she looked a perfect match for her weapon of
choice; the sword that was held in her firm grip was large, wicked-looking, and emblazoned with magical
runes. The lethality of her weapon didn’t at all seem diminished by the fact that it had also rather
unceremoniously been shattered about halfway up the blade, leaving a jagged reminder that neither the
sword nor its bearer were whole. Riven, willingly called the Exile, used her appearance as a symbol and a

reminder that her home had once had honor, despite its violent and dark nature. When the revelation
that Noxus had fallen away from its tradition of honoring strength, ability, and the will to use it came to
the decorated soldier, she had forsaken her status as an honored individual and went into a self-
imposed exile until she had recently reemerged to join the League of Legends, intent on purging Noxus
of those who had twisted the Noxian ideal.

The silence was broken only when a regal-sounding female voice sounded out. “Champions,
prepare for summoning. Good hunting.”

---

Far, far away, a being of pure energy and unparalleled amounts of pink ceased its spasms and
looked toward the others surrounding it. “It’s a DOOZY”

Comments

[The Gargoyle]

HOT DAMN THIS IS EXCITING! Cant wait to get further!
I wonder if anyone can guess which champion is my favorite.

[Pleaseworkforonce]

befor i read any mmore than teh 2nd paragraph i think this is based off teh game league of legends just saying (oh god i want to play now)

Edit ha i was right

[Pleaseworkforonce]

384628 im wing it and say garven(mispelled

[Ablesoap]

But whers rammus?

[Essbie]

Riven, willingly called the Exile

Reading that, I'm suddenly reminded by the Myst series. Myst, Riven - The Sequel to Myst, Myst III: Exile.

And then... doozy.

[FinalBlow]

384628

Ummm, galio.

[Kapuchu]

I think you sort of missed Riven's personality...

She's not the hostile kind, she's more of "I fight because I must".

572263
Ok

[Dementia Ravenmane]

It needs to be about 20% more draven. Nah, im just kidding. It is a interesting start.

[Clockwork Heart]

Hoo boy. I've seen this story a few times on EqD. As a big LoL fan, I finally decided to read it. After the first chapter, I can say I'm hooked.

'Six Chamions are summoned to Equestria', and then a match on the Treeline. If the writing on the walls is right, I'm scared for the ponies. Riven may get along with them, but Swain is devious, and Singed... oh, God.

[WiseIdiot]

Fix the paragraph formatting!

[Brancake]

I really hope the opposite team is composed of garen jarvan and lux.

[Florida]

Jericho Swain’s face rema-

SWAIN
SWAIN
PIMPCANE SWAIN
SWOLEMASTER SWAIN
SWAIN
...did I mention I'm a Swain fanboy
-squee-

[Mehnlo]

I am just wondering, why are there so many paragraphs? It's broken up by them so often and is really awkward to read.

[Lord Butter]

Can you fix the paragraph style please?! Thank you.

[Talguy21]

1485876

I think it's more along the lines of 'she's fighting on the Noxian team' with Swain, the shot-caller that committed the atrocities she exiled herself for, and Singed, who embodies all of those atrocities in a chemically mutilated mess. She's not a hostile person, but she sure as hell does not want to cooperate with Noxus.

[kuruku]

The formatting is completely bonkers. It makes reading an absolute pain. Could you fix it, please??

[Warrior Kitten]

Achievements Unlocked!

I'm not important...
Attract the attention, hook, line and sinker, of yours truly.

Syntax Error
Congratulations, you've somehow managed to screw with the pre-programmed formatting of FIMFiction, now everything looks weird...

---

I kid you not, everything is like, pushed on one side of my screen and there are holes in the text. Still legible though! Thank goodness for that!

[Warrior Kitten]

6526716
Formatting still broken