Atop a high and desolate plateau overlooking the open plains of central Valoran, a towering specter stands sentinel. A grim stillness pervades the surrounding countryside, even seeming to dampen the sunlight itself. Its essence contained within armor forged in a centaurian design, the mighty juggernaut may as well have stepped out of a book of the darkest fantasies. But neither the foreboding yet elegant glyphs throughout its armor nor the depictions of gristly deaths done likewise evoked the truest terror surrounding the being; such a trait was reserved for the creature's unwavering countenance. As it continued to stare westward without so much as a blink, one could not help but tremble before the ominous display. At last, the specter's foul and unholy essence blazes to life as it turns with a clattering of armor-bound hooves.

"Behold, mortals. You stand in the presence of the herald of your demise; behold, the Shadow of War. Though thy matters are of little concern to me, my instructions are clear; I will permit thee to ask thy petty questions of me. Come, ye of little consequence, and take solace in the inevitability of thy fate."

{{ .....Hecarim?

Eh. Good luck. Welcome to the forum. Ignore the senseless drama that Fortune/Shyvana gets involved in. }}

{{Aye, Hecarim. Noticed that it was one of the openings on your handy-dandy Compendium, so I figured that a vicious monster-style champ might be fun.

...senseless drama? I'll abstain from inquiring further. Hecarim approves of the dread that such a foreboding and ominous declaration inspire. }}

What's your breakfast o' champions?

An odd question, rotund mortal. I have transcended beyond the needs of the mortal form; even memory fails to dredge up the last time I partook in such fare as 'food' or 'water'. I feel neither fatigue nor hunger, for I am beyond such petty trifles.

My current form, however, is not self-sustaining. Rather than consume thy mortal fare, I am able to 'feed' on emotions, particularly fear and dread. For this, my form bears ever more purpose. When I look upon an army of thine human kin, I behold a feast worthy of the Shadow Isles' courts. My power may be beholden upon the Fields of Justice, when I invoke around me the Spirit of Dread itself.

Whether or not I am even capable of consuming mortal fare has yet to be tested. Such acts would not suit my purposes in this land.

Shadow of War,

What is your opinion regarding machines, and those who seek to supplant their biology with such devices?

- Viktor, the Machine Herald

Would y'like a drink made dedicated to ye? Emotion sounds like a good market to me, 'specially made with alcohol.

((Sorry, but that is not how you greet a new RPer. Its rude and presents a negative impression of us. Also makes you look like an arrogant *******....which I think is probably the truth....Sorry Hec. A lot of people have been *****ing lately. And Viktor, Talon, and MF seem to be in the middle of it, beating their heads like a bunch of Rhinos.))


((ON TO A QUESTION!!))

Hecarim,

As an Omen of War to a humble weaponsmith could you share details on what your armor is?

Thy mechanisms are curious, perhaps even befuddling, when considering the rest of thy continent's progress in so-called technology. My masters would be pleased were I to obtain samples of these, that the conquest of thy home city-state might be swifter when the time comes.

Thy supplementation of thy bodies with mechanics, however, seems a practice whose purpose is to stave off oblivion. The practice itself is not dissimilar to other sights I have beheld in the Shadow Isles. You need only look to me for an example of my kind's workings; tortured and maddened souls relocated into once lifeless shells, that they may serve the Shadow ever longer. Thy sciences have yet to develop to this point though, methinks. A shame.

Aye, 'twould be the case, I believe you will find. Emotions bear a great deal of savory flavor, as does the consumption of thy kind's life energies. It pleases me greatly to strike down fleeing cowards; their screams of horror are then followed with a rush of life energy.

Were you to do such a thing, brewer, 'twould likely spread awareness of the coming darkness, give thy kind something new to fear...I verily approve of this. Thou may begin at thy leisure.

My armor was constructed from a rare metal found only in the Shadow Isles, a process which saw the expiration of countless enslaved. Every last plate was forged in the flames of wrath, tempered in the waters where the souls of the lost languish, and reinforced with spirits of the fallen. Spell-work was woven into the armor, of a nature that I shall not reveal, though the glyphs etched throughout may give some idea. My halberd was created in a similar manner, though it saw additional reinforcement with spirits of dread and strife, that it would rend flesh and will alike. In sum, I do not believe such resources or spell craft are within thy means.

{{Let's not have this devolve into a flame war, please.}}

Soul forgeing?...I thought it was a forgotten art. Hmmm. Intriguing and satisfying. No shred of history should be lost. as dark and brutal as it is, we need to remember it.