Mordekaiser
Twice defeated and reborn three times, Mordekaiser emerges as a ruthless warlord from a forgotten era, wielding necromantic sorcery to enslave souls for eternity. Few recall his earlier conquests, and fewer still comprehend the full scope of his abilities. Yet, ancient souls hold memories of his terrifying prowess and dread the day he might reemerge to assert control over the realms of the living and the dead. Welcome, lore-lovers, to another deep dive into the world of Runeterra on Liandrug! Today, we're exploring the dark and intriguing story of Mordekaiser, the Iron Revenant.
Opening
Champion's story
In a bygone epoch, the formidable warlord Sahn-Uzal swept through the northern wildlands with relentless ferocity. Fueled by dark faith, he vanquished every tribe and settlement in his path, carving out an empire with blood and death as his tools. As his mortal days drew to a close, Sahn-Uzal harbored deep satisfaction, convinced that his brutal conquests had secured him a place of eternal glory in the fabled Hall of Bones among the gods.
Yet, upon his death, Sahn-Uzal was confronted with a stark reality. Instead of the promised halls of greatness, he found himself in a desolate gray wasteland, enveloped by eerie mist and haunted by dissonant whispers. Lost souls wandered aimlessly nearby, mere shadows of their former selves.
Consumed by rage and disbelief, Sahn-Uzal grappled with the realization that his faith had betrayed him. Had his conquests been in vain? Was his dominion over the world not enough to secure the immortality he craved? The emptiness stretched endlessly before him, a bleak eternity where lesser spirits faded into oblivion, lost to the unforgiving grasp of time.
But Sahn-Uzal refused to succumb to the oblivion that threatened to consume him.
Driven by unyielding rage and torment, his will remained unbroken. Gradually, the incomprehensible whispers in the void coalesced into a twisted language known as Ochnun--a profane tongue foreign to the living. Within the remnants of his shattered mind, a deceitful scheme took shape. Sahn-Uzal began to weave temptations across the realms, offering his unstoppable strength to any who dared heed his call.
Inevitably, a coven of sorcerers answered his whispered summons, determined to resurrect Sahn-Uzal from the realm of the dead. With no flesh or bone to revive, Sahn-Uzal guided them to forge a vessel of dark metal plates resembling his ancient armor, binding his spirit within. Thus, he emerged as a towering revenant of iron and hatred--no longer Sahn-Uzal, but a new entity born from despair and cunning.
These sorcerers sought to wield Mordekaiser as a weapon in their petty conflicts, only to meet their demise at his hands. Their feeble weapons and magic proved futile against his ironclad might.
In their final moments, the sorcerers screamed Sahn-Uzal's name in desperation, seeking to control him. Yet, Mordekaiser--the once-warlord, now reborn in iron--rejected his former identity with an ethereal rumble, uttering his spirit-name in Ochnun:
"Mordekaiser."
Thus commenced Mordekaiser's second conquest of the mortal realm, fueled by ambitions greater than before and empowered by unfathomable necromantic sorceries. From the fading souls of the defeated sorcerers, Mordekaiser crafted his formidable mace, Nightfall--a weapon befitting an emperor of death--and swiftly seized control of the army they had unwittingly raised.
To his adversaries, Mordekaiser appeared as a harbinger of slaughter and ruin, unleashing relentless campaigns that claimed entire generations.
Yet, hidden beneath his reign of terror lay a grander design. Erecting the Immortal Bastion as the heart of his empire, Mordekaiser sought not just dominion but forbidden knowledge--seeking insights into the mysteries of spirits, death, and the vast realms beyond.
His tyranny inevitably drew adversaries. Surprisingly, Mordekaiser met defeat at the hands of an alliance of Noxian tribes and a treacherous faction within his own inner circle. This clandestine cabal managed to separate his soul from his iron shell, imprisoning the empty husk in a secret location, thwarting his dominion--at least for a time.
Banished from the material realm, Mordekaiser's exile was not an end but a calculated step in his grand design--unknown to all save himself. While domination and deceit had propelled him thus far, Mordekaiser envisioned a destiny transcending even the fabled Hall of Bones.
In the desolate wasteland where he was cast, the spirits of those who perished under his rule awaited--twisted by dark sorcery into eternal servitude. The strongest became his unwavering army, bound by unbreakable devotion, while even the weakest found purpose in his Afterworld.
Using the essence of these souls, Mordekaiser began to shape a new empire, where spectral legions formed the very foundation of his dominion.
Centuries passed on Runeterra, and an empire flourished around the Immortal Bastion--a testament to Mordekaiser's enduring legacy. His name continued to evoke fear and awe among scholars of ancient lore, and was remembered with bitterness by the rare souls who had once crossed his path.
For those who remembered, the dread of Mordekaiser's permanent return loomed large--a nightmare they prayed would remain unrealized, for they knew not how to thwart his unstoppable march.
In the story "The Final Reign" we can see what happened to Shan Uzal after his first death, what he felt and what drove him to build his empire, let's explore this story together.
Sahn-Uzal blinked and surveyed his surroundings, a sense of uncertainty clouding his mind.
"I am dead," the thought whispered through his consciousness like a fleeting breeze. In that moment, a brief pang of sadness gripped his heart, only to be swiftly overtaken by uproarious laughter that echoed through his spectral form.
"Good."
Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Sahn-Uzal searched the mist-shrouded expanse for the legendary gateway to the Hall of Bones--the revered passage to eternal glory. He anticipated the arrival of attendants who would usher him into the grand realm of conquerors past, his excitement building with each passing moment.
Yet, to his dismay, there was nothing but boundless fog stretching as far as the eye could see, obscuring any trace of the promised afterlife.
Sahn-Uzal's surprise turned to bewilderment as he felt the coarse grit of fine sand shifting underfoot and heard distant, indistinct voices murmuring discordantly.
"This makes no sense," he muttered to himself, his determination growing with each step across the seemingly endless wasteland.
As time stretched on relentlessly, confusion morphed into disbelief, then anger, and finally erupted into seething fury.
"Nothing. There is nothing," Sahn-Uzal realized bitterly, the desolate sands and incessant whispers mocking his expectations of an afterlife of glory. Doubts gnawed at him--had the priests deceived him? Were the prophets false? Had his ancestors forsaken him?
But Sahn-Uzal, conqueror and master of tribes in life, refused to succumb to despair. He had forged empires from nothingness before, defying all odds. Death would not thwart him.
"If death does not hold the kingdoms I was promised... I will forge them myself," he declared defiantly, his resolve unyielding even in the face of eternal emptiness.
Back to life again, after being bound to his armor, we find Mordekaiser in a fight against 13 mages, dealing with the last one. The arcane tome floated serenely above the blood-soaked pedestal, untouched amidst the carnage that surrounded it--a stark contrast to the grim scene unfolding.
With a feeble hand and blood trickling from his brow, the last surviving mage summoned his final reserves of strength. Small flames danced between his fingers, a desperate spell ignited by sheer determination.
Mordekaiser observed with bemusement. "Such magics will consume you, mortal. And your precious book as well."
The mage's response was a defiant spit. "I am inconsequential. All that matters is stopping you from obtaining it."
A torrent of blazing blue fire erupted from the mage's hands, engulfing the towering Iron Revenant. The scorching energy surged up the mage's arms, splitting his flesh with agonizing backlash. Despite the excruciating pain, the mage gritted his teeth and pressed on with unwavering resolve.
Mordekaiser advanced, a spectral figure encased in dark iron armor, shielding the arcane tome from the torrent of flames with unyielding resolve. In his hands, Nightfall, his infamous mace, pulsed with an ephemeral green glow. The intense heat cracked stone and melted the flesh of the lifeless mages around him, but Mordekaiser remained stoic against the onslaught.
As the mage's final spell waned, his body broken and spent, he collapsed to his knees, his ragged breath carrying a whispered prayer for his efforts to be enough.
"If only you had more conviction," Mordekaiser remarked coldly, his voice devoid of empathy.
The mage stifled a sob as Mordekaiser approached, squinting up at the imposing specter. His throat dry and cracked, he struggled to speak defiantly. "You will not find what you seek! A brutish monster like you could never comprehend the secrets of the Tome of Spirits--"
With a swift swing of Nightfall, Mordekaiser silenced the mage's protest with a satisfying crash, adding another surge of blood to the already sticky pools on the floor. The thirteenth broken mage fell silent.
Mordekaiser's laughter echoed through the chamber, chilling in its emptiness. "You mistake brutality for ignorance."
Surveying the lifeless bodies around him, Mordekaiser whispered a verse in the unspoken tongue of the dead.
"Pitiful struggle,
Freed from flesh,
You are all mine."
With a tap of Nightfall on the ground, the mace glowed brighter, almost seeming to breathe, as thirteen points of light rose from the broken bodies and sank into the earth.
Turning his attention back to the floating tome, humming with potent spirit magic, Mordekaiser moved forward to claim his prize--a new piece of knowledge to fuel his ambitions, another treasure in his unending conquest.
He reached out to collect his prize, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and the hunger for forbidden knowledge.
Mordekaiser even planned his second death, only for him to return to his kingdom now. With a raised fist and a surge of potent necromantic power, Mordekaiser commanded the final spire of the towering fortress to take form--inky smoke coalescing into imposing black iron before his eyes. Gazing upon his domain with dark pride, he beheld the realization of his vision.
Mitna Rachnun, his Afterworld, stood complete.
Once a mortal soul faced with the chilling emptiness of oblivion, Mordekaiser now surveyed a sprawling kingdom stretched out before him--forged through his sheer determination and boundless ambition.
Striding down the path toward his fortress, Mordekaiser reveled in the satisfaction of his monumental achievement. Each stone underfoot, each battlement and rampart, all bore the mark of his cruel magic and unyielding will.
Where there had been nothingness, Mordekaiser had fashioned his own reality--a realm where souls would dwell for eternity, never to fade into the void.
His iron-clad form resonated with triumph as he approached the gates of his citadel, ready to rule over Mitna Rachnun with unrelenting authority--an eternal empire built from the depths of his boundless darkness.
Mordekaiser strides beneath the inner portcullis, an echo of his mortal seat of power, the Immortal Bastion. The dark entryway of his fortress opens into the vast expanse of the great hall.
Before him, his imposing throne looms like a symbol of his eternal dominion.
Amidst the constant cacophony of wailing souls--an unholy chorus of anguish--Mordekaiser remains unaffected, hearing them as one might hear mundane sounds of a war camp or a forced march. To him, the cries of the damned are unremarkable, mere background noise in the grand scheme of his realm.
The worthy souls lining the hall stand at attention, silent and obedient, none daring to speak in the presence of their ruler.
All is as it should be.
Mordekaiser moves forward purposefully, his ironclad footsteps echoing through the hall as he approaches his throne--an embodiment of absolute power and unyielding authority in his dark kingdom.
The throne looms before Mordekaiser, its sheer iron pillars rising upward to vicious points. Angular and sharp Ochnun script adorns the throne's dais, blending with the incessant, desperate whispers that seem to roar in the presence of this dark symbol of power. Mordekaiser places a hand on the armrest, taking pride in the creation that subsumed more souls than any other part of his fortress. The haunting wails emanating from the throne are a grim symphony to his ears.
With a simple thought, Mordekaiser summons Nightfall to his hands. With a decisive swing, he obliterates the throne.
A squall of a hundred souls echoes through the great hall as they are released from their prison, dissipating into oblivion. Mordekaiser watches with grim satisfaction as they vanish, their tormented cries fading into the background.
Thrones are for mortals burdened by flesh and human limitations. Mordekaiser has transcended such limitations.
Standing atop the twisted iron remains, Mordekaiser gazes across his great hall. His generals--souls worthy to die by his hand in the physical realm--stand at attention, unmoving and obedient. Not a single one flinches in response. None will act without his direct command.
Now, his kingdom is truly ready for the next phase of his eternal conquest.
Mordekaiser strides purposefully out of the great hall, moving toward the heart of his fortress--the centerpiece of his power and machinations. His destination: the relic that binds Mitna Rachnun to the mortal realm, the secret heart of the Immortal Bastion that gives purpose to his eternal dominion.
In his first life, Mordekaiser believed himself a great conqueror, worthy of the eternal halls promised by his faith. How insignificant and mortal his ambitions seemed then! But unlike others who accepted death as finality, Mordekaiser used it as a stepping stone to forge the beginning of his true conquest. Now, he hears and understands every whisper of this realm with stark clarity. Death's magic courses through him, and he holds arcane secrets gathered over lifetimes, wrested from hidden and unknown places of the world. Few can claim mastery of spirit, death, and mortal magics as Mordekaiser can. He intends to wield this power to shape all realms to his iron will.
The time has come to return to the world of the living. All the souls of Runeterra await his command.
Mordekaiser raises Nightfall in one hand, a symbol of his unyielding dominion.
And so, his final reign begins--an era where no mortal or spirit can defy the will of the Iron Revenant.
Champion's relations
Regarding his relations with other champions we know about, maybe the most curious thing is what about Kindred, because we know that everyone is taken by Kindred, right? But, given Sahn-Uzal's (Mordekaiser when he was human) faith in the Hall of Bones, it's reasonable to conclude that his culture did not have a Kindred myth, which would explain why he was never claimed by them.
Mordekaiser's history includes torturing Veigar, who later mimicked him after his downfall.
LeBlanc, another member of Mordekaiser's inner circle, played a pivotal role in his downfall and is now preparing to banish him upon his return to claim the Immortal Bastion for herself.
In a daring mission, Januk tasked Ezreal with obtaining the Elixir of Uloa to resurrect Mordekaiser. However, Ezreal cleverly deceived Januk by stealing an old Ochnun bell instead of the actual elixir.
Although not confirmed, there are implications that Mordekaiser may be aware of Viego's actions and could stand to benefit from them upon his return. If they were to directly confront each other, it is believed that Mordekaiser would likely emerge victorious.
Closing Words
Thanks for joining us on this journey through Mordekaiser's lore. If you enjoyed this video, don't forget to like, share, and subscribe to Liandrug for more captivating tales from Runeterra. Join our Discord community for further discussions and to connect with fellow lore enthusiasts. Until next time, may the spirits of the Afterworld guide you!
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