If there is one thing the league's angelic sisters, Morgana and Kayle, could agree on, it is their respective hatred for Ssannaniel. Clad in red armor and carrying in gigantic axe, this angel which seemingly comes from the same world as the enemy siblings has walked and flown through Valoran, denouncing the exactions of both their sides to all who would listen-an attack to two of its protegees the league could not tolerate for long.
Thus Ssannaniel received two provocations at the same time-one from each sister. They both said the same thing, in different terms : live up to your words and fight us, or stay shut. To an angel, regardless of who he aligned for, this was very serious offense. But Ssannaniel didn't bother : She went to the league, and asked to enter.
From this day onwards, many a champion's head has fallen on the ground after a swing of the High Reckoner's massive battleaxe-and the defaming of the warring angels continues. Yet, it is obvious that there is something more to Ssannaniel-but only Kayle and Morgana, and a few others, seem to even notice it, and the more the crowd cheers for her, the less it does for either of the sisters.
« Now this is what I call a nice sight. »– Mordekaiser
Ssannaniel's attacks deal bonus physical damage equal to 2.5% of her target's maximum health (maximum : 50) and grant her the same amount of Soul Charges. At 100 Soul Charges, her next attack will consume the charges to be a guaranteed critical strike.
COST: 50 mana
COOLDOWN: 10 / 9 / 8 / 7 / 6
Passive: Ssannaniel gains bonus attack damage.
Bonus AD: 10 / 15 / 20 / 25 / 30
Active: Ssannaniel blasts target enemy with dark energies, dealing physical damage. This ability has a chance to deal true damage rather than physical damage that is based on Ssannaniel's critical strike chance.
Physical damage: 60 / 90 / 120 / 150 / 180 +120% of bonus AD
COST: 40 / 45 / 50 / 55 / 60 mana
COOLDOWN: 16 / 15 / 14 / 13 / 12 seconds
Passive: Critical Strikes increase the duration of each existing Soul Bleed stack on the target by 1 second.
Active: Ssannaniel charges her axe with power, causing her attacks for the next 5 seconds to apply Soul Bleed, dealing physical damage over 6 seconds to her target. The damage over time can stack with each attack, but they all have a separate duration.
Physical damage per stack per second: 7 / 8.5 / 10 / 11.5 / 13 +8.3% of bonus AD
I Bask in your Silent Awe
COST: 60 mana
COOLDOWN: 20 seconds
Active: Sannaniel silences enemies around her for a long duration. This ability's cooldown is reduced by 1.5 seconds whenever Ssannaniel lands a critical strike.
Diameter of AoE: 400
Duration: 2 / 2.5 / 3 / 3.5 / 4 seconds
Hour of Reckoning
COST: 100 mana
COOLDOWN: 120 / 100 / 80
Passive: Ssannaniel gains bonus movement speed when walking towards enemy champions within 2000 range.
Bonus movement speed: 30 / 40 / 50
Active: Ssannaniel goes on a rampage, gaining 100% movement speed and becoming immune to slows for 3 seconds. 3 seconds after activating the ability, she will let out a powerful strike all around her which deals heavy physical damage. This ability deals from 0 to 100% bonus damage based on Ssannaniel's critical strike chance.
« There is a world, they say, where immortal winged beings commit to chase evil every day of their life, striving to make their world a better place.
Tis false, of course. They call themselves good, indeed. But there is another part of this world. A part they refused to tell you about. A place where people call themselves evil. »
The hooded figure of the summoner showed no reaction, but waved her to continue.
« Your word for good means something that's done out of benevolence. Your word for evil means something that is done out of malevolence, and evil people call themselves good, and from their view, they indeed are. Things happen differently there. »
The summoner nodded. « Please continue », he said.
« Good and evil mean nothing. They're just names for sides. Naught can escape them, and naught can deny them. There's as much cruelty in the shining light as in the dark shadows. This, you have to know. »
« I see », said the summoner. « But you haven't answered. Why do you want to fight, Ssannaniel ? »
« For those who didn't want to choose a side. For those who tried to mend, and were killed by the warring. For those who could not resist. »
« I think we should go a little deeper into that. » As these words were wispered, the purple hood started fading. Ssannaniel reached forward, only to grasp emptiness, then looked around. As her interlocutor disappeared, and she growled in increasing anger, something else... Faded in. Rocks. The barren heath's cold, sharp wind. The broken alabaster gate, up there on the hill. Her armor was gone, replaced with a thick cloth tunic, and on her back the medical supplies she treasured as if they were worth worlds. She was back at the start. She was back to when... « It » happened.
She tried to scream, but couldn't. She watched herself try to climb the short plateau, then give up and fly the short distance, unable to do anything to stop herself... No... What was shown to her of herself, from doing what she then knew was the good thing, and now knew would cause her loss.
Upper on the hill, the dead were everywhere. She was used to the sight, at the time. Because she had to. When you did what she did, there was no other way. It was impossible to tell which camp destroyed the temple : the forces of both light and darkness were vicious, and neither showed any mercy. She was closer to the gate now : it was indeed carved in alabaster, and showed motives of armored angels, carrying a variety of weapons. All of the armors were painted red. Most of them had been broken ; the rest stood there, eerie, watching silently the dead battlefield.
She entered. She had not found someone alive in over a week : there had to be something, she had to find something. She refused to believe that the everyday destruction was the only thing there was to life ; but the armed force she started stalking days ago was, sadly, very effective in its work. There were few survivors she could help, and some even attacked her on sight, either out of hate or to steal her supplies. More than once her wings were the only thing to save her.
« Is there anybody alive ? Please tell me there's somebody alive ! » She watched herself walk the hallways, occasionally stopping to examinate the mutilated body of a priest, not finding what she looked for : somewhere, anywhere, a spark of life.
« Come... Here... »
The voice was muffled, but the walls echoed it to her still. She ran towards the direction of the sound, and indeed, as she remembered was there, was another angel, lying on the ground.
It was male, and in terrible state. One of his arms was stuck in an impossible angle ; both of his legs had been trampled. It was losing a lot of blood, but the perpetrators had made sure he would die slowly. And, redder than the blood, almost glowing, he was wearing a crimson armor, the same crimson the carved angels on the gate did. Ssannaniel watched as the memory of herself restrained herself from puking, and took at better look at the angel : it was in an even worse state than, too excited to have found someone living, she had noticed at the time.
« Luck... We're lucky... You got here... »
« I can save you ! Don't move ! I won't-I refuse to let anyone die ! »
« Too late... For me, at least. There's a door... They couldn't open it. It's in the next room... I'll tell you how to open it. They did... Ha... Ha... Help me there... I'll die slowly enough to help you. Please... Carry me. »
Too scared to disobey, she lifted the angel off the floor, and, slipping his bulk under a wing and his valid arm around her shoulder, half carried half dragged him through the next hallway. There, she stopped in front of the door, and watched it -her old herself in horror, her current herself in angst to what was coming- move its broken arm and draw an intricate curve on the door, the only thing since the entrance to be built of alabaster. Where his finger touched it, it lit red. When he finished, the door started to open, slowly, silently.
« They helped me there... They helped you there... Lay me there... And... Enter... And take whatever you find in there. Ha ha... I can finish dying... »
Here, in the cold temple, surrounded by the dead, she did not dare not to obey the dying angel's last wish. As she walked, she could still hear it :
« They helped me there... They helped you there... We were lucky... We are so lucky... »
The door closed abruptly. She turned, and ran to the door : it was obvious to her now that she wouldn't manage to open it again. But her old herself still tried, hitting it, clawing and nailing, then crying. She cried a lot. She was looking at herself, as pitiful as the miserable crying girl ont he ground-a girl that was her. Then she finally turned back, and noticed the room's walls had started glowing-not a brillant glow, but a darkish blue-green. The room was circular ; in the middle of it was a rectangular, rather plain wooden table, which was in a pretty poor state. What caught the eye was the axe. It was enormous, the blade alone bigger than Ssannaniel head, said blade which seemed, strangely, as though it was made of alabaster. It was worn out at places, and the blade was in poor condition. It was coming now-the current herself knew it. She screamed out to stop, she didn't want to-she didn't HAVE to, damnit ; but she could not hear herself. She grabbed the handle.
And then, the world exploded.
A whirlwind of screaming dead. It was at her that is was screaming, shrieking, waltzing, drawing nearer, closer...
It was too much now. They forced her to live this again. Before, she kept just watching, gruesomely hypnotized by her own life before her eyes. But now, it was too much. She didn't do anything to make it stop, no-
She DECIDED to make it stop.
Anger at herself, anger at the dogs who were forcing her to live through this again, anger at the useless pile of good intentions she was-
The illusion broke. Shimmering dust and rainbows, floating for a while, dropping on the ground, and disappearing. And at the end of the room, Ssannaniel, her hand closed on the throat of the summoner, pushing him against the wall.
« How dare you », she said. « How dare you use that against myself. No, I'm not me anymore, indeed, but how do you dare touch these things, because they're mine, mine, MINE... »
« It will be enough. »
She turned abruptly, wings stretched, her hand on her axe's handle, ready to charge, leaving the other summoner on the ground, gasping for air.
« I warn you, you dog... »
« It will not be necessary. We thank you for showing us a... Different view on things, if I might say. And welcome to the league of legends.»
« Psh. » She grumbled. « Once again I've searched for audience, and I find cruelty, and interest. Watch your league, little man, I'm a tool of powers who might one day want it gone. »
She turned out towards the exist, hesitating right before and turning back to say :
« Remember that. Anyone you save, any wealth you retain, any good you do-It will end in corpses. Remember it. »
-Peace exists no more. -Where there's order, there's abuse. -I shall dress in blood. -I fly on wings of hatred. -What angst is theirs, the ones I fight for. -You deserve mercy neither. -Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not die. -I fly alabaster. -An axe to grind. -There's no point left. -Hear my plea and despair. -I've known better than this, and it died. -Good, evil, they're just names for sides. -I fight for those who couldn't. -I feel every dead's pain. -Even I am but a tool.
-Soon none will be left. -They never deserved mercy. -No rest, no mercy, no questions. -By light and thunder and guilt. -Death awaits with its bony grin. -Brothers and sisters, screaming in pain. -Thou shan't be spared. -Vile and holy die, and anger wins. -Every swing, a soul is cut. -T'is but a flesh wound -Spiraling end. -Time for execution. -Guillotine. -I am graveborne. -Believe, and die. Refute, and die.
-T'is but a flesh wound in your soul. -From my own exactions one just as me might rise, neverending spiral which all that feels'll erase. Taste the irony.
-None think they'll die 'til they do. -I don't do this for justice, or to protect anything. Many innocents I shall kill, to avenge many innocents who've been killed. That's all there is to it.
-How dare they call themselves oppressed, they who'd oppress had they prevailed ? -You lost a lot, but you gained more. We lost everything, and even that was taken away. -You've failed your mission. You've failed your friends. You've even failed yourself. I can do no more.