Biography[]
Long, long ago, in a tower by the edge of the sea, a foolish young mage summoned something into the world that he was not prepared to control. What stepped before the boy was something older than recorded history. Something darker than a yawning, starless night. Something the world had desperately tried to forget—and in an instant, the mage, the creature, and the tower itself were lost to all of time.
At least, that's what the stories say.
In the 
Freljord, children frighten each other around the fire with tales of a monster that raises itself from untended graves in the ice, its body a shambling mass of helmets, bucklers, furs, and wood. In 
Bilgewater, drunken sailors trade accounts of something standing alone on a tiny, distant atoll from which no one has ever returned. An old 
Targonian legend speaks of how a 
child of twilight stole the only joy from a ragged, whispering horror, while veteran 
Noxian soldiers prefer the fable of a lonely farmhand who was blamed for a poor harvest and fed to the crows, later returning to the world as a demon.
Demacia. 
Ixtal. 
Piltover. 
Ionia. 
Shurima. In every corner of Runeterra, these myths persist—reshaped, respun, and passed down by countless generations of storytellers. Stories of a thing that looks almost human and stalks places thick with fear.
But these are simply fables to frighten young children. No one would ever be afraid of a silly old monster called 
Fiddlesticks...
Until now.
Something has awoken in the Demacian hinterlands, drawn by the climate of rising fear and paranoia. Rural protectorates, separated from the capital by hundreds of miles of farmland, are emptying in mere days. Travelers vanish from the old footpaths. Guard patrols fail to report back from the edges of the kingdom. And wild-eyed survivors claw at their faces from the safety of roadside taverns, wailing of crows that aren't crows, sounds that aren't sounds, and a lopsided horror in the shape of a scarecrow that croaks in the stolen voices of the dead.
Most blame rogue mages. Such accusations are common in these days of rebellion.
Yet the truth is far worse. Something has returned, just as it had in the fictitious tale of the young mage in his seaside tower. An evil gone from the world for numberless centuries—long enough that the warnings of a nascent humanity passed into rumor, then myth, then legend... until all that remained were simple fables. An entity so utterly alien that it defies almost all contemporary knowledge of magic. So impossibly ancient that it has always been. So universally feared that even animals grow nervous when someone speaks its name.
In the wake of this revival, another tale, nearly lost to memory, has seen a resurgence throughout the hinterlands. A legend of a great evil that has no form, no thoughts, and no understanding of the world it inhabits, instead building itself into the crude shape of those that fear it. The terror of all living things, given life in that first terrible scream of creation. A demon before demons were known.
At least, that's what the stories say.
But Fiddlesticks is real.
Change log[]
| The Ancient Fear | |
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 MISSING
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Updated to the current version. |
| MISSING
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Updated to remove references to the Institute of War.
  fear." -  Fiddlesticks
A ghastly living scarecrow, Fiddlesticks is an abomination who stalks the darkness, wielding a scythe and preying upon the unwary. Aided by a savage murder of crows, Fiddlesticks relishes terrorizing his victims before claiming their lives amid a flurry of feathers and blood splattered beaks. |
| MISSING
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Fourth version.
  crows."
For nearly twenty years, His is a cautionary tale of power run amok, taught to all summoners within the League. Decades ago, there existed a powerful rune mage from Zaun - Istvaan. At the end of the fifth Rune War, he became one of the League's first summoners. Too much a prisoner to the old ways of magic, Istvaan stepped further and further outside the rules of conduct in the League. In what was ultimately his last match, his reach finally exceeded his grasp. Sealing himself inside the easternmost summoning chamber, he began incanting the most forbidden of rituals - an extra-planar summoning. What exactly happened inside that chamber remains unknown. No champion came to represent Zaun that day in Summoner's Rift. Only silence echoed back from repeated knocks on the chamber door. The first apprentice who entered was cut down immediately by an unearthly scythe. What few who followed and survived were driven mad by Afraid of the evil even Istvaan could not control, the League sealed all exits to the chamber, hoping they could contain what they could not destroy. Years went by, but the wooden figure within never moved save to slay any foolish enough to enter. Seeing no recourse to reclaim the chamber, the Council instead devised a use for Fiddlesticks: executioner. While he comes to life and seemingly abides by the rules of summoning in the Fields of Justice, what he awaits inside his chamber is unknown. His unmoving face yields no clues, and his scythe stands ready to strike down any who stand before him. |
| V1.0.0.32 (October 23rd, 2009) | Third version.
 Fiddlesticks is an anomaly, not a shade of things to come.
There are many rumors of Fiddlesticks' origins. Some say that he is the avenging guardian of the witches of the Howling Marsh. Others believe that he is some sort of abomination gone wrong, a product of the mad scientists of Zaun. Barroom stories say that he is the creation of Noxus, a thing of evil which not even they could contain. There are even those that whisper that he comes from the forbidden Shadow Isles, but such learned men often keep to themselves. Whatever the truth, Fiddlesticks has come to the League of Legends, a malefic champion whose mere presence is a warning - something wicked this way comes. |
| Alpha Week 6 (March 25th, 2009) | Second version.
There is a valley, just on the sandy edge of the desert. A powerful witch lives there, but not alone. It is said that she commands powerful magics that circle and batter this place. She transforms the energies into semi-living souls, trapping them inside the bodies of carefully crafted scarecrows. Those who have been to the edge of that valley have seen the rows upon rows of shambling creatures. They have seen them dance and fight with each other. And they have fled in fright, for there are few sights more terrifying. The witch has kept to herself for many long years. That is, until a few months ago, when she sent one of her creations out to warn the rest of the world. Leaving the valley in the middle of the night, Fiddlesticks shambled across the desert and into the neighboring realms. He tormented and terrified all who looked upon him, and he smiled. For it is his job to be the harbinger, to bear the news of the impending doom. Before the rest of his kind come out of the valley, all of Valoran will have been warned. |
| Alpha | Original version.
Fiddlesticks shambled across the desert and into the neighboring realms. He  torments and  terrifies all who look upon him with his wickedly crooked smile. For he is the Harbinger, bearing news of impending doom. |
