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|Title||The Eye of the Void|
|Release Date||February 27, 2014|
|520 (+ 88)|
|5.5 (+ 0.55)|
|469 (+ 21)|
|8 (+ 0.8)|
|54.938 (+ 3.142)|
|0.625 (+ 1.36%)|
|21.88 (+ 3.5)|
|30 (+ 0.5)|
- For outdated and now non-canon lore entries, click here.
- Story #1
- Story #2
|It is unclear if Vel’Koz was the first Voidborn to emerge on Runeterra, but there has certainly never been another to match his level of cruel, calculating sentience. While his kin devour or defile everything around them, he seeks instead to scrutinize and study the physical realm—and the strange, warlike beings that dwell there—for any weakness the Void might exploit. But Vel’Koz is far from a passive observer, striking back at threats with deadly plasma, or by disrupting the very fabric of the world itself.
To truly understand the horror that is Vel’Koz, one must first know of the Watchers, and how they were blinded to the mortal realm.
Beyond the material plane, outside and somehow below it, lies the unknowable abyss. It is the realm of the Void, where no mortal or immortal creature may ever walk. It is not necessary to know how such a place ever came to be, nor why—only that it did. The Void is eternal. The Void consumes all.
In that place, in the cold, endless dark, all is equal and empty. For timeless eons, there was purity in that fact. There was peace, if such a term could have any meaning there.
Then, something changed. Not in the Void realm, but elsewhere. It was existence, it was... something, where before there had been nothing, and its mere presence scraped against the vast, cold, formless entities that drifted in the blackness. Before this, they had not even been fully aware of their own sentience, and yet now they knew that they could not tolerate the presence of this other place; this other-realm of mercurial, overwhelming creation.
The entities watched. They scrutinized.
And soon enough, the Watchers found themselves being scrutinized in return. The tiny, mortal minds that reached out to them were insignificant, little more than fleeting motes of light at the very edges of the abyss. Yet, in them, the Watchers saw a chance to invade the material realm, to destroy it, to silence the intolerable pulsing of reality beyond the Void.
The boldest of them tore open the veil and hurled themselves upward, only to be horribly disoriented by the sudden shift between the abyss and the corporeal, linear nature of reality. In an instant, there was time, and heat, and pain...
Then there was only cold. The way was shut, and dozens of the Watchers were trapped in the liminal space between two realms, frozen in the moment of transition.
Those that remained in the Void recoiled. They had no concept of what had happened, yet they knew they had been betrayed.
And so, they adapted.
Reaching into the material realm, the Watchers took from the crude matter that comprised it, shaping, corrupting and imbuing it with consciousness. These constructs were the first of the Voidborn, and would be their masters’ eyes and ears, sent forth into the nightmare of existence to watch, listen, and learn.
Among them, one stands apart. As perhaps the oldest surviving Voidborn, certainly existing the longest outside of the abyss, he has been known by countless names to those unfortunate enough to encounter him. Thousands of years before Icathia unleashed the Void in battle, the primitive cultures of Shurima feared the devil Vel’Koz, who crept forth from the underworld to steal the dreams of wiser men. Though his name has no literal translation in the modern tongue, it equates roughly as “to understand by unmaking.”
His insatiable hunger for knowledge has led Vel’Koz across the world, to its highest peaks and darkest depths. Cunning and methodical, he has quietly watched entire civilizations rise, stagnate and decay, spent centuries combing the ocean floor for its secrets, even scrying the movements of the stars in the heavens above him.
He carries all of this knowledge back to the great rifts in the fabric of Runeterra—so that the Watchers might know what he knows—and will annihilate, without hesitation, any mortal who stands in his path.
For the Void is eternal, and it will consume us all.
|"Only by deconstruction is truth revealed."
| INSTRUMENT OF DESTRUCTION
I pass into the sudden glare. Blink. Blink, blink, blink. My eyes adjust and evaluate the landscape before me.
There's a scurrying. I look down to find a small, white creature standing on its hind legs, sniffing at my body. It intrigues me.
What use are you?
I analyze the creature. A flash of hot magenta light, a dust pile where it was quivering.
Mammalian... Nocturnal... Impeccable hearing. Incredibly weak. Yet they breed so prodigiously.
Hmm I mutter to myself. Hopefully there will be more complex things to be found; those fascinate me.
Consume and learn: this is my purpose. The others who travel with me are primitive: kill and eat, kill and eat. I need to gather all available information - harvest any valuable resources.
Eventually, we come upon a destroyed city, save for one pristine tower. It appears to be protected - or intentionally left standing. I deconstruct the composition of the ruins. My analysis suggests this habitat was a place of great magic; I'm not surprised it was a target of such destruction. There is something compelling about the tower. While the others are off scavenging, I enter the citadel.
Cryptic instruments are strewn about. I examine one. Another flash of hot magenta light, another dust pile.
Fascinating: a tool to alter their concept of time.
From the state of the tower, it seems the owner departed only recently. The artifacts left behind have existed in more than one time and place. Some are more complex than others; all are more impressive than anything I have seen on this plane. Clearly, the owner knows things I have not encountered in any of my travels.
I require such knowledge.
Leaving the tower, I find the others closing in on the entrance, ready to destroy it as they have destroyed everything else we have met. They will only get in the way of my goal. There are some things the Void should not consume indiscriminately.
Without warning, I lash out a tentacle, its tip glowing white hot. Lightning arcs through the first creature, knocking it back. Its screams fade as I extend all three limbs, energy crackling between them, scorching the air where the streams meet. The other two run; they know what's coming.
Must they always flee?
I open my eye wide and unleash a beam of energy, following the escaping creatures. They are instantly reduced to ash. Hmm. Void-native melting point is inconsistent I note.
But that is of no consequence. The hunger inside me grows. I am ravenous. Insatiable, as never before.
I have glimpsed the ultimate knowledge.
And I will have it.
|A DIFFERENT HUNGER
With a kiss to my wife and resting my spear against my shoulder, I joined my fellows as we left the village. The morning was new, dawn stretching through the thick forests of Tokogol as the six of us made our way to the watch point by a worn dirt path. We were travelling light, as our vigil would only last until the next moon before another band of spearmen took our place. Tokogol shared borders with Noxus, and its increasing belligerence of late had stirred the house lords to ensure that all of their spears were honed.
Our journey was short and uneventful, a soldier’s dream. The better part of a half day’s march brought us within sight of the outpost, and we pointed as the signal fire was lit, welcoming us with a column of thin, white smoke. The mood among my comrades was light, the easy talk of bonded brothers and neighbors. Though our duty was to watch the frontier in search of any sign of it, war in Tokogol was a distant thought.
When we arrived, we found the gates to the stockade open and unbarred, yet not broken or forced. An odd feeling crept over us, like a chill dancing up our spines. I could see it in the others, just as surely as I felt it in myself.
We formed a tiny shield wall, two ranks of three men, and entered the stockade expecting to find slaughter—ruin and destruction, with signs of Noxus for all to see.
But we found none of this.
What we discovered was the picture of an outpost no different than any other. The fires had crackled down to embers beneath cooking pots that were still full. Clothes hung drying, and the lanterns were still on their poles from the night before. We looked at each other in alarm, in confusion. It was as if our comrades had simply disappeared.
“What could have happened here?” whispered Bel. Our wall straightened and broke as we searched the outpost for any sign of life.
“Could they have been captured?” asked Ulryk.
I approached a wall of the stockade. A stripe of the timber was burnt blacker than pitch. I reached toward it, and the barest touch of my fingertips sent it crumbling, revealing a crater of smooth wood underneath. The others found similar marks across the camp, though none of us could fathom how they had been made.
A cry sent us all back into a warrior’s crouch. “Come quick!”
It was Afron. We ran to him, finding him standing over a body.
“It’s Halryn,” he said, looking to us. “The tanner’s boy.”
The young man was pale, lying fetal on the ground. We saw no sign of battle on him, no blood or wounds.
I drew my knife. Sinking to my haunches, I brought the blade beneath Halryn’s nose. The day was cold, and shallow puffs of breath clouded the steel in a slow, stilted rhythm.
“He yet lives,” I said, reaching for his shoulder. We leapt away as soon as I’d rolled him onto his back.
Halryn’s eyes were open, yet there was nothing there. From what we could tell, he was conscious, but his right eye simply stared up at the sky, empty of light.
That was not what we had recoiled from.
“By the gods,” Ulryk breathed. Afron spat to avert evil, and we joined him.
Where Halryn’s left eye had been, only a dark pit remained. I had seen enough battle in my time to know the telltales of a spear or blade, but no weapon I knew could have made such a wound. It was too clean, too precise for battle’s disordered frenzy. No pain marked the boy’s face from the horrific injury.
“What could have done this to him?” Bel demanded. “Some beast? A plague?”
We shrank back from the body at the thought. “No,” Caer frowned, his hand straying to the satchel of herbs and poultices at his waist. “No sign of festering. This wasn’t disease.”
“Find the others,” ordered Bel. “Now.”
One by one, we found them. These were men we knew, men of our village who sold fish and hammered steel. All bore the same wound to their left eye, all reduced to the same catatonic state. They appeared almost serene, and all the more horrifying for it.
Afron looked to Bel. “What do we do?”
“We must give warning,” said Ulryk.
“Of what?” asked Caer. “We have no idea what is happening here.”
They argued. Voices clashed and overlapped. Above it all, I noted the smell of smoke in the air.
The others stopped, looking back at me. I swallowed.
“If they are all in this state,” I pointed back to the signal fire behind us, “then who lit the beac—”
Ulryk was in the air before we knew what was happening. A blinding flash stole my sight, but I glimpsed a huge, darkened shape against it. Oaths, prayers and curses filled the air from my comrades’ lips. They were silenced by a crack like a bullwhip, followed by an overwhelming, fizzing shriek.
When I could see clearly again, I was on the ground.
I looked down to see my legs splayed, broken. Other warriors, my brothers and friends, lay staring up at the sky above.
I heard only one other voice, and turned. I could only watch as Afron, a youth of barely sixteen, struggled beneath the monster. Bathed in harsh violet light, he writhed as one of its appendages sank into his skull through his eye. His screams stopped as he became a mere husk, like all the others.
Then the monster turned its baleful gaze in my direction.
In an instant, it was looming over me. I looked up into that single, swollen eye, and sensed a hunger beyond imagining. A hunger not of flesh, but something far deeper. My soul teetered on the edge of this abyss, its merciless hunger pulling…
I am Hennis Kydarn, a warrior and a spear of Tokogol. I refused to give it the satisfaction of my cries, even as its tentacle knifed down through my eye. There was no pain—
—as I work. The analysis can inflict physical pain, should I desire it, but that is not critical here. I have learned much of pain, and its uses.
This one’s information is precious, as all knowledge is. A settlement, interactions, castes. A particular female of the species, and offspring… This one resists my analysis of those, but it is a simple thing to overcome.
With nothing more to consume, I travel here, to disseminate what I have collected.
The rift beneath me is a conduit for information to be passed into the true realm. The creatures that inhabit this world have designated our domain as the Void. Such curious poetry these entities weave—a curiosity that illustrates how far my task is from completion.
A universe of knowledge surrounds me, of great power and distant lands, and I shall collect it all. I offer this information, now, and all of the rest to come.
- Vel'Koz's Champion Page
- Universe of League of Legends Page
- Mid-Season Magic
- Vel'Koz, the Eye of the Void, revealed