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|The Blind Monk|
|Release Date:||April 1st, 2011|
|Health:||570.8 (+ 85)|
|Health Regen:||7.425 (+ 0.7)|
|Attack Damage:||69 (+ 3.2)|
|Attack Speed:||0.651 (+ 3%)|
|Armor:||33 (+ 3.7)|
|Magic Resist:||32.1 (+ 1.25)|
- Previous Bio
- League Judgement
Once a promising mage from Ionia, Lee Sin is a blind monk who sought redemption at the Shojin Monastery for a terrible mistake that cost innocent lives. In the midst of the Noxian invasion, his power became one with his flesh in a way none could have foreseen. With burning fists and inhumanly powerful roundhouse kicks, he fights those who dare despoil his homeland.
| "The actions of one may sunder the world, but the efforts of many may rebuild it."
- Lee Sin
|ALL THAT GLITTERS...
Ancient roots, sinuous trees and thickly-leafed vines clinging to the rocks all but obscured the path through the lush jungle. Three men sweated as they hacked their way onward, driven by hearts filled with greed and dreams of untold wealth. For six days the jungle had defied them, but now the temple reared from the undergrowth. Its facade was carved into a colossal stone outcropping, with blossoms of red and blue spreading around its base. Serene statuary filled golden alcoves and garlands of golden orchids were entwined around its eaves.
“You see, Horta?” said Wren. “Didn’t we tell you the temple was real?”
“So long as the treasures inside are real” said Horta, tossing aside the blunted hatchet and drawing a freshly sharpened sword. “You both staked your lives on that, remember?”
“Don’t worry, Horta” said Medra, with a rasping cough. “You’ll be able to buy your own palace after this.”
“I’d better” said Horta. “Now draw your blades. Kill anyone who gets in our way.”
The three brigands approached the temple, weapons glinting in the setting sun. Horta saw its corners were not sharp and defined; every edge flowing together instead of meeting at angles. As they made their way inside, they passed between two magnificent Ionian Whipwillows, their trunks curved to form an entranceway, with bark so white it seemed painted.
“Why aren’t there any guards?” he asked, as he stepped inside.
The question went unanswered as his eyes adjusted to the sepulchral gloom of a chamber hewn into the rock. The arched roof was carved with bas-relief, and every wall glittered with colored chips of glass to form a mosaic of vivid landscapes that rippled with light and life. Ivory tablets engraved with ancient Shojin parables were situated upon pillars of carved bronze, and gem-studded idols of jet stood watchfully in sunken alcoves. Statues of warrior-gods, each trimmed with gold, stared down from plinths of porphyry and jade.
Horta grinned. “Take it. Take it all.”
Wren and Merta sheathed their swords and flung open their packs. They began filling them with everything they could reach: statues, idols and gemstones, whooping with glee as they dragged a fortune in gold behind them. Horta circled the chamber, already planning their deaths when they got back to civilization, when he noticed that one of the statues was moving.
At first glance, he’d thought it to be a painted idol of a warrior monk, seated with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knees. His back had been toward Horta, but now the man stood and turned on the spot with the fluid ease of a coiled snake. Lean and powerfully muscled, he wore loose-fitting trousers and a red bandanna across his eyes.
“Not so empty after all” said Horta, flexing his fingers on the leather-wound grip of his sword. “Good. I was hoping I’d get to cut someone up.”
The monk cocked his head to the side as though listening to sounds only he could hear and said “Three men. One with a blighted lung, another with a weak heart that will not see out the year.”
The sightless monk turned and stared directly at Horta, though there was surely no way he could see him through the thick fabric bound across his eyes.
“You have a twist in your spine” he said. “It pains you in the winter and forces you to favor your left side.”
“What are you, some kind of seer?” demanded Horta, nervously licking his lips.
The monk ignored the question and said “I am Lee Sin.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” asked Horta.
“I give you this one chance to put back what you have taken” said Lee Sin. “Then leave this place and never return.”
“You’re in no position to make demands, my blind friend” said Horta, letting the tip of his sword scrape across the stone floor. “There are three of us and you aren’t even armed.”
Wren and Merta gave nervous laughs, wary of the monk’s confidence even in the face of their advantage of numbers. Horta gestured with his free hand, and his two companions moved to flank the monk, each drawing a curved blade from leather sheaths.
“This is a sacred place” said Lee Sin, with a rueful sigh. “It should not be desecrated.”
Horta gave the others a nod. “Put this sightless fool out of his misery.”
Wren stepped forward. Lee Sin was moving before his foot hit the ground. The monk went from being utterly still to a blur of motion in the blink of an eye. His arm whipped around and the hard edge of his hand struck Wren’s neck. Bone crunched and the bandit dropped, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Lee Sin swayed aside as Merta slashed with his sword. The blow was wild, and the reverse stroke flashed over Lee Sin’s head. The monk dropped flat, twisting as he fell to sweep his shin out and scythe Merta’s legs out from under him. The bandit collapsed, his weapon skittering away over the tiled floor. Lee Sin sprang to his feet and hammered his heel down on Merta’s sternum.
Merta gave a strangled cry as his ribs cracked and the splintered ends were driven into his weak heart. Stolen gemstones spilled from his fallen pack as his eyes bulged in agony and he fought for breath like a landed fish.
“You’re fast for a monk” said Horta, slicing his sword through the air in a series of blindingly swift maneuvers. “But I’m no slouch with a blade.”
“You believe you are fast?” asked Lee Sin.
“Trained by the best, so you won’t find me as easy to beat as those two idiots” said Horta, nodding toward the bodies of his former companions.
Lee Sin made no reply as they circled one another. Horta watched as the blind man tracked his every motion. The monk’s steps were fluid and precise, and Horta had the uncomfortable feeling that every passing second was revealing more of his own abilities to his opponent.
He roared and threw himself at the monk, attacking in a blistering series of high slashes and lunges. Lee Sin swayed aside, moving like a wind-blown sapling as he dodged, deflected and spun away from Horta’s desperate strikes. He kept his blade in constant motion, forcing Lee Sin back with every attack. The monk hadn’t even broken a sweat. His impassive mouth, covered eyes and casual disdain infuriated Horta.
He gathered himself for one final attack, drawing on every scrap of training, fury and strength he could muster. His sword cut the air around the monk, but never once made contact.
Lee Sin spun away one last time and bent his knees, his body taut.
“You have speed and not a little skill” he said, sinews pulsing beneath his skin “but anger colors your every thought. It has consumed you and has led to your death.”
Horta felt the air in the chamber grow warmer as streamers of energy coalesced around Lee Sin. A fiery vortex engulfed the monk and Horta backed away in terror, his sword falling from his grip. Lee Sin was trembling, as though fighting to control energies more powerful than he could contain. The chamber reverberated with the sound of a rising wind.
“Please” said Horta. “I’ll put it back. I’ll put it all back!”
Lee Sin leapt, propelled by the blitzing hurricane of energy. His foot hammered into Horta’s chest, hurling him backward. Horta slammed against the wall and stone cracked under the impact. He fell limply to the floor, every bone in his spine shattered like broken pottery.
“You had a chance to avoid this, but you did not take it” said Lee Sin. “Now you pay the price.”
Horta’s vision greyed at the edges as death approached, but not before he saw Lee Sin return to his seated position. The monk’s back was to him, and, as his posture relaxed, the vortex of lethal energies began to dissipate.
Lee Sin bowed his head and resumed his meditation.
|As a young teen, Lee Sin was intent on becoming a summoner. His will and dedication were unmatched by any of his peers, and his skill drew the attention of Reginald Ashram, the League's High Councilor at the time. While studying at the Arcanum Majoris, Lee Sin became frustrated with instruction paced for the other students. He spent his free time researching the nuances of summoning in hopes of graduating sooner. He made amazing advances in his arcane studies, surpassing all other students. By all indications, he would have become one of the League's greatest summoners were it not for one terrible mistake. Too impatient, he attempted to test his ability by summoning a beast from the Plague Jungles. What he summoned instead was a young boy, but not in one piece. He barely had time to look the boy in what was once his face before the jumbled human mass fell lifeless to the floor. A League investigation later revealed that the boy's entire village was obliterated by feedback from the ritual.
Lee Sin's talents were so promising that the League was willing to overlook the incident, but he could never forgive himself. He left the Institute and journeyed to the Shojin Monastery for eternal repentance, swearing never to practice magic again. Years later, hoping to atone for his crime with martyrdom, he set himself ablaze as a protest of the Noxian occupation of Ionia. He remained alive in this state, enduring searing agony for weeks. His actions paved the way for a League match wherein Ionia prevailed, but by the time he was doused, his eyes had been burned completely from their sockets. Hailed as a savior, he was reborn, and his will to act invigorated. He joined the League of Legends to continue his atonement with sweat and blood, a true monk's only possessions.
| "The actions of one may sunder the world, but the efforts of many may rebuild it."
- Lee Sin
|Candidate: Lee Sin
Date: 31 March, 21 CLE
Lee Sin crosses the Great Hall with an aura of confidence unusual for a blind man. He seems to gather sensory information so efficiently it makes one wonder whether, for him, blindness is a weakness or a strength.
His physique is exceedingly understated, tuned only for practical use by years of martial study. What he lacks in size, he makes up for with presence. His conviction is absolute. He pads straight to the doors, then stomps the ground. His head moves up the door, tracking the resulting sound.
He chuckles at the inscription.
A damp echo trickled outward as the doors thud shut behind Lee Sin, painting the room's cramped dimensions in his mind. The sound was low and the air was stuffy, distorting the noise and accenting his mental image with a subtle blur. In the crannies of the musty stone, fading but distinct human scents lingered, the trace pheromones of violent emotion.
But Lee Sin was transfixed on the overwhelming stench of ready magic.
Arcane potential loomed in the air around him, more than he had ever sensed before. The Reflecting Chamber swelled with it. To most, it would be imperceptible, likely misinterpreted as jitters or dread. It had the quality of the calm before the storm: a pregnant stillness, a swindling serenity. Lee Sin knew that this room, in its current state, was an amplifier, an accelerant for sorcery. He could taste the magical anticipation, like a static charge waiting to be released.
The aroma of fresh pine was suddenly everywhere. He stepped back.
And fire engulfed him.
The sensation was familiar more than anything else. Before the frantic damage reports arrived from nerves all over his body, he shut down part of his mind. He refused the pain access. Now there was only intensity and focus. Here he was again, amidst the flames.
In a disturbing way, it felt like home.
Five months had passed since he began the protest of the Noxian occupation in Ionia. He lit, without any pretense of survival, the pyre that consumed his flesh for two months. In that time, with agony tugging at his sanity, Lee Sin discovered things which hid deep within the soul, inner truths that revealed themselves only in the face of certain annihilation. Just before the lapping flames were to claim his final breath, his fellow monks arrived with the news that Ionia was free.
"It was a cleansing fire, wasn't it?" He recognized the bold timbre of his former mentor, Reginald Ashram, as acutely as the blaze surging around him. Ashram was one of the few people in Valoran privy to the secrets of Lee Sin's past.
"Pain does not heal the heart, it only focuses the mind."
"In this case, it focused many minds, and led to Noxus' withdrawal from Ionian territory."
"A happy turn of events." Lee Sin smiled, although the flickering heat on his face made him wonder if Ashram could see it.
"But you still haven't forgiven yourself."
Lee Sin sank to a meditative pose and the fire billowed in return. This, ironically, was his sanctuary.
"The past remains, no act will undo it." His tongue knew these words like the grooves of his teeth.
"Why do you want to join the League, Lee Sin?"
"I have much yet to do."
Remaining seated, Lee Sin raised one hand to his chest, fire dancing upon it. He swept it forward so sharply that the pyre flickered, and the flames on his arm were completely extinguished.
"A decisive strike may finish a battle," He paused as flames crept back up his outstretched arm, "but the evils of this world persist. To combat them, we must remain diligent." The fire reached his hand again, and he closed it with such force that a shock wave rippled out, expunging the blaze that consumed him. The wave whipped across Ashram, and he took a half-step back.
"How did you survive that fire?"
"I found the purpose I had lost so long ago."
"And what is that purpose? What is your ultimate goal?" There was an urgency in Ashram's voice, a hint of concern that puzzled Lee Sin. Ashram felt threatened.
"One does not need a destination to have direction. Is a drop of water finished when it flows from the brook to the ocean? Is it complete when it rises to join the clouds? Has it failed when it falls upon the land?" An obliging drop of sweat rolled down his forehead.
"What is your direction?"
"To do what is right. To protect the overlooked things which matter most." The drop of sweat hovered on the edge of his brow. "You can find them in the bubbling of the brook, the shade of the passing cloud, or the coolness of the rain." On cue, the drop fell to his waiting palm.
Ashram phrased his response carefully. "Your protest moved all of Valoran to action. Nearly to military action. This is a tremendous amount of power for one man to wield. What happens if that one man's intentions become corrupt?"
"Then I hope other men find the good in themselves to do what is right."
The inquisitor reeked of frustration. He was unused to vulnerability, uncomfortable with all that Lee Sin could perceive.
"How does it feel to expose your mind?" The question was bitter and hollow, deprived of its usual gravitas.
"I would ask you the same question."
Lee Sin knew he was alone. The magical potency was gone, spent, and in its place sat an atmosphere of somber fatigue. This was the emotional residue of those who had completed the trial before him. Its flavor was bittersweet.
In one graceful, fluid motion, Lee Sin was on his feet. His clothes and skin were intact, as though untouched by the flames. A fresh breeze swept through the room. Lee Sin could sense the shape of its current as it moved, like a serpent returning to coil in its nest.
Lee Sin lingered a moment, head bowed in appreciation of the champions who had passed this threshold before him.
One life past, one life ahead.
So the Blind Monk joined the League of Legends.
- July 17th, LCS Pro Tips: Lee Sin from LoL Esports
- Lee Sin's Champion Page
- Universe of League of Legends Page
- Champion Sneak Peek: Lee Sin, the Blind Monk
Journal of Justice
- Angered Monk Sets Self on Fire
- Ionia Demands a Rematch with Noxus
- Clearing Obstacles for a Rematch
- Ionia Accepts Challenge
- Victory for Ionia
- The Mailbag of Justice
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