Biography[]
Legends of the popular folk hero 
Kled can be traced back to the founding of Noxus, and perhaps even further still. He is an icon revered by the common soldiery, which is increasingly a cause of concern to their commanders—for there are some among the warhosts who claim to have literally served beside him.
Tall tales such as “The Great Hussar's Victory”, “The Return of the High General Marshal-Sergeant”, and “The Mountain Admiral” abound, which strongly imply Kled has fought in every campaign ever waged, acquired every military title, and never once backed down from a fight. Though the details are often outlandish and contradictory, the essence of the tale remains: charging into battle on his un-trusty steed, Skaarl, Kled fights to protect what's his... and takes whatever else he can get.
In truth, the Cantankerous Cavalier hails from another land entirely—
Bandle City. As a yordle, he made his home among the proud Noxii tribes in the wake of the Rune Wars, and has never looked back.
The earliest mention of Kled in historical records was at the First Battle of Drugne. In the dusty hills of those badlands, the warhost of General Zavaan was on the run from barbarian foes. Having lost the previous two engagements, morale was low. The supply train had been abandoned in the rout, and they were a week's march from the nearest outpost. Zavaan, in his spotless armor, seemed more concerned with how this would appear back home than the welfare of his soldiers, and ordered a defensive circle formation to buy himself time to think.
Then, as the morning sun rose, the lone figure of Kled appeared on the hilltop, mounted upon a desert drakalops. This warrior's weapon was rusted, his armor worn, his clothes tattered—but contempt and anger burned in his one good eye.
He bellowed an ultimatum to the barbarian horde, demanding that they leave his lands or be destroyed. However, he did not wait for any response, spurring his steed and screaming the charge. Desperate, starving, and furious with their general, the Noxian warhost's anger ignited at the sight of this act of bravado. They rushed after Kled as he tore into the enemy.
What followed was one of the bloodiest melees ever fought on the northern steppes. The initial momentum of the counterattack was crushed beneath a hail of barbarian arrows from higher ground, but Kled fought on even after he was thrown from his saddle and his drakalops fled. He always seemed to be at the heart of the battle, chopping down foes, kicking out teeth, and biting faces. The bodies piled up around him, and his clothes were soaked with blood. He screamed louder challenges and cruder insults. Clearly, this great warrior was willing to die before ever backing down.
Cowardice can be infectious, but so too can courage. Where the Noxians might have given up and fled for their lives, instead they were inspired to make one last stand.
Even Kled's drakalops returned, and crashed into the barbarians' rearguard, snarling and clawing as it dived in to free its master. With his mount again beneath him, Kled became a veritable whirlwind of death, and it was the barbarians who broke and ran.
Though too few of the Noxian soldiers survived that day for it to be considered a victory, Drugne was contested long enough that word reached the Immortal Bastion, and reinforcements were sent. The war ground on for at least another decade, until the barbarian leaders sued for peace—their strength was added to Noxus, and Drugne became a foothold for continued campaigns across Dalamor and the north for many centuries to come.
The body of General Zavaan—and his fine armor—was never found.
In time, countless other warhosts of the empire acquired similar stories of Kled. It has long been said that he rides wherever Noxians march, claiming the spoils of war for himself. Indeed, in their wake, good-humored signs can often be found proclaiming each new territory “Property of Kled”.
Change log[]
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Updated to the current version. |
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Original version.
The earliest known story of Kled traces back to the empire's infancy and the Battle of Drugne. In the dusty hills of those badlands, the First Legion was on the run from a barbarian horde. Having lost the two previous battles, the men's morale was low, the army had been forced to abandon its supply train in the rout, and they were a week's march from the nearest outpost. In command of the Legion was a gaggle of wealthy nobles bedecked in spotless golden armor. They were more concerned with their appearances and the intrigues of their class than the men they were commanding. Worse, these commanders - though well versed in assassination and tournament fighting - had proven hopeless on the field. With the remains of the army surrounded by enemy forces, the nobles ordered the Legion into a defensive circle in hopes of negotiating ransoms for themselves. Then, as the morning sun rose, the mysterious figure of Kled appeared on the hilltop overlooking the battlefield. He rode Skaarl, an immortal desert drakalops. The mount stood on only two legs; its ear-like forelimbs fanned from the side of its head, hanging down apologetically, like a butler who had accidently dipped his hands in soup. The lone rider stood on his steed's saddle. His "I'll give you one chance to get off my land!" Kled announced to the barbarian horde, but the yordle didn't wait for their answer. He spurred his steed and angrily screamed his Desperate, starving, and furious with the nobles, the Legion's anger ignited like blasting powder at the yordle's insane act of bravado. The enlisted men rushed after Kled and Skaarl as they tore into the center of the enemy formation. What followed was the bloodiest melee the Legion had ever fought. The initial success of its surprise attack was crushed when the barbarians' reserve forces smashed into the Legion's flanks. With the battle turning against the Noxians and the enemy attacking from every side, Skaarl Enemy bodies piled around Kled, and his clothes were soaked with blood. Despite the casualties he inflicted with every swing of his long axe, he was still forced back by the barbarians' relentless tide. He screamed louder challenges and cruder insults. Clearly, the yordle was willing to die before ever backing down. Courage and cowardice are as infectious as the plague, however, and seeing Kled's determination, the legionnaires pressed on. Even Skaarl stopped running and turned to watch the Legion's last stand. Then, as the Noxian line was breaking and the enemy's superior numbers pulled Kled to the ground, the drakalops triumphantly Though precious few of the Noxian soldiers survived, the battle was won. The tribes of Drugne were defeated, and their lands were added to the empire. The bodies of the nobles, and their fine golden armor, were never found. In time, most of the empire's other legions acquired similar stories of Kled, proving no defeat is certain in the face of insane courage. It is said he rides wherever the legions travel, claiming the spoils of war and land for himself and Skaarl. Most Noxians find the truth of these tall tales questionable at best. But in the legions' wake, signs can always be found proclaiming each new territory 'Property of Kled'.  |
