Apophis deals increased damage based on how much more health he has than his target, capping at 30% increased damage at a 1,000 health difference. This will also apply if his target is under crowd-control effects from his abilities, but will only reach 10% increased damage while afflicted by said crowd-control.
COOLDOWN: 20 / 18 / 16 / 14 / 12
Active: Apophis corrupts an enemy champion, dealing magic damage over 3 seconds and stealing 3 / 6 / 9 / 12 / 15% of their armor and magic resistance.
Damage: 80 / 120 / 160 / 200 / 240 (+45% AP)
ABOMINUS: Apophis corrupts champions around him, dealing magic damage per second. The damage and cost increases by 2% for each second it is active
Damage: 10 / 20 / 30 / 40 / 50 (+50% of bonus AD)
Apophis removes light from a target area, slowing all targets within the cloud of darkness and reducing their sight radius by 50%.
Slow: 5% / 10% / 15% / 20% / 25%
ABOMINUS: Apophis whips his tail in a circle, knocking back enemies and dealing physical damage.
Damage: 42 / 58 / 74 / 90 / 106 (+ 35% bonus AD)
COOLDOWN: 24 / 22 / 20 / 18 / 16
Apophis launches a tether, attaching itself to the first target it hits, provoking its dark urges, luring them towards Apophis and dealing magic damage while the tether is in place. If the tether remains in place for 1 / 1.5 / 2 / 2.5 / 3 seconds, Apophis will heal for a percentage of the tether damage dealt and bite the target, dealing physical damage and stunning them for .75 seconds. If another champion crosses the tether, it will be broken and Apophis will take damage equal to 15% of the damage he has dealt.
Thanks to the League of Legends, Valoran now knows the likes of Snoop Dogg and his brother Gator-Golf. But their kind are not, as most people believe, newcomers to this world. In fact, one of them has dwelt on Runeterra for ages ―but he is not benevolent. He is a monstrous sociopath who sees existence as a means to torture him; he lives only to set himself free, even if it means destroying all of reality. His name is Apophis.
Long ago, Apophis lived among his people as Nasus and Renekton did before their summoning. Charged with overseeing entropy, the title Apophis held was considered an invaluable role by his brethren in ensuring universal order. But over the years, he realized that the position merited him little thanks or gratitude despite its integral role in his people's society. His power was only matched by a few others, yet he was ignored. Seeing that some of his brethren earned the faith and gratitude of the people, despite being magnitudes weaker than himself, Apophis started to brood and become melancholic, and after years of brooding contemplation, he took action.
Convinced that only death could relief him of his duty, Apophis went on a one-man rampage, using his powers to wither and decay all those who stood in his path. He intended this to be his final hour, the action that would drive him to his death ―but fate it seemed, had other plans. When he was finally subdued and brought to trial for his crimes, he thought he would certain he would be executed. But for attempting to shrug off his sacred duty to maintain the Cycle of Life and Death, he was sentenced to a far greater punishment. Through the use of powerful magic, drawn from the vast cosmic energy of the universe, Apophis' life-force was tied to the very essence of reality. He was now cursed to be immortal. Bound in an arcane prison designed specifically to hinder his entropic abilities, Apophis was sent to a far-off alien world, one where he would contemplate his actions and acknowledge his crimes. The very action however, only furthered his madness. Consumed with hate, his soul became sickened with grief and fueled by anger. He came to hate all life, and over time, he started to blame his woes on the universe and reality itself.
Years turned into decades, and decades into centuries. Eventually, Apophis' prison was unearthed by ancient Shuriman excavators, who were searching for long-buried treasure deep beneath the ground. Thought to be some ancient artifact from an older time, his prison was brought before Shurima's brightest for study. But little did they know the dangers of their decision.
Although he was still physically confined, the intensity of Apophis' hatred and agony was now so great, it began to seep into the hearts and minds of those around him. The lords began to bicker, some mages' ambitions started to overtake their reasoning, and others began to boil and hate. Even full-scale Rune Wars erupted, devastating Shurima and leaving it a harsh, unforgiving desert.
And yet beneath the now vast desert and destroyed ruins, Apophis remained, as he was cursed to. One day, the daughter of an influential Noxian family, accompanied by a sellsword, traveled to an ancient tomb and found a magnificent sarcophagus deep within it. It sung to her, feeding her desire and greed... and it was enough to tempt her into opening it.
When his prison was flung open, Apophis dashed past the two mortals, who were nothing more than an after-thought, heading toward the surface. When he indulged in the sun's rays for the first time in eons, Apophis came to a realization. He was still a prisoner, to the sins and burdens of his past, which would haunt his every waking hour as long as he lived... but his life was now irreversibly tied with the universe's. That left only one option freedom: the complete and utter annihilation of all reality.
By day's end, Apophis was chased down by the League of Legends' strongest summoners. Still weak from his imprisonment, he could do little to evade capture. Now bound and his powers restrained, the newly-dubbed Horror of the Sands now bides his time among the League. Let the foolish Summoners believe he wants to be cured. What better way to destroy this world than to corrupt its smartest and strongest champions?
"The world has not met an abomination like Apophis. He is without conscience, feels no remorse, and whatever reason he lived for died long ago. He has become nothing less than death, the destroyer of worlds."
Apophis awoke to find himself surrounded by darkness. For a brief moment, he thought himself to be dead and his mind raced through the possibilities, but the moment quickly passed as he realized the reality. He wasn't dead... in fact, he was very much alive. Angered and saddened in equal amounts by this revelation, Apophis took a look around, his baleful red eye scanning his surroundings.
There was very little light in this void of a place, yet his scales shined brightly and he could still breathe, despite the apparent lack of wind. It had to a trick of some sort, no doubt magical in some way. To test his theory, Apophis flicked out a deep violet tongue, sampling the air; and as he suspected, it stank magic. Perhaps it was interrogation... or another damn prison. Apophis remembered just being freed from one, and he had no intention to stay in another. He looked around for a brief moment for an exit when a blinding shaft of light appeared before him.
Once his eyes adjusted, he could make out a table of some sort, and behind it, a robed being, like the ones that captured him in the desert. Light seemed to permeate from its desk, but it faded away around a foot or so. "Who are you?" the being asked.
Interrogation it was. "Apophis," he answered simply.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Something that would boggle your feeble little mind," he said with disdain. If this little mage or whatever it was thought to imprison him, it was going to pay the price for its arrogance.
The mage threw its arms outward. "I am a Summoner of the League of Legends," its arms returned to their resting position on the desk. "Try me."
Apophis glared angrily, his eyes like rubies. "I was, and still am, unjustly imprisoned. Why am I here?"
"To answer a question, of course."
A question? Was this some kind of ill-humored joke? Had the definition of comedy change over the eons he was imprisoned? Apophis did not know. "And what would that be, mage?" Apophis twisted the word like a knife.
The mage blinked. "Why do you want to join the League of Legends?"
Again, he mentioned this league, to which he knew nothing about. But if it meant working with, or worse, for this mage, Apophis wanted no part in it. But he decided to go along with it anyway, just for the possibility of leaving this cage of a room. It reminded him too much of his prison.
A reason... a reason... he pondered it for one long minute. He vaguely remembering having felt love and compassion once, he remembered a time when they drove him, but he couldn't remember how they felt. It was all... so long ago. The eons of imprisonment had taken their toll on his memory, but so did his rage. No, he didn't have a reason to join this league, other than to end his pain. Pulling on his inner reserves, Apophis mustered all the guile he possessed and put on a grief-stricken attitude. "I want to find a cure," he said forlornly.
"For your immortality?" the summoner specified. "Long have people sought immortality. Countless try to find it, but few people ever do... and fewer still wish to be rid of it."
The jagged row of scutes that ran down Apophis' jaw and neck bristled, making an organic clacking sound. The summoner looked on in apparent fascination, but his hazel-colored eyes betrayed him. Behind the façade of interest, there was a sense of uneasiness, something primal. Apophis noticed. It seemed that even lesser beings told the same lies that his brothers did. His rage came rushing back, nearly crushing his guise. "I'm not most people," he said curtly.
Certain that the mortal didn't notice his inner conflict, Apophis watched the summoner lay back into his chair, seemingly irritated by the lack of respect he was given. "So I have noticed," he replied, pulling on the whiskers that sat just above his lip, seemingly going deep into thought.
A full minute of quiet contemplation passed when the summoner spoke again. "Are you ready to open your mind, Apophis?" he asked. "The sensation, truth be told, is less than pleasant." Apophis heard the last part said with mild punctuation.
Without warning, the summoner placed his hand outward, resting his elbow on the table; immediately, Apophis felt a psychic probe tap against his outer defenses. Maybe these summoners were weaker willed than he thought. "I am more than ready... Summoner," Apophis added, and at that moment, he flung open the gates to his mind. What happened next could only be compared to knocking on a door, only to have it open on you and you falling inward. The mage fell into darkness... and it was waiting for him.
Malaya kept her hands over Senior Summoner Rexes dutifully, her hands glowing with a greenish-blue life-giving aura. He hadn't moved since his physic evaluation with that monster they called Apophis, but he was alive at least; you could tell that much by the rising and falling of his chest. But he didn't move beyond him. He seemed separate... distant even.
"How is his condition?" Senior Enchanter Samisen asked, in his silver outlined robes and equally metallic hair. He was charged with maintaining the quality of the League's equipment, which also meant its medical supplies. His prescience was much appreciated.
Malaya let the glow in her hands fade before turning to the minion who had been waiting patiently for her command. After she sent the construct off in search of a towel, she turned to the senior enchanter with regret.
"It isn't magic, Senior Enchanter. That much I can be certain on," she looked down at Rexes, and couldn't help but think how the man looked twenty years older than he did this morning. "I couldn't find a single trace of magic, but his mind feels... knotted," she made a gesture toward her head. "It's completely mental."
Samisen bent down and seated himself next to Rexes' bed, his face sick with worry, and Malaya looked on. In the three short years she had spent at the Institute of War, she learned that brotherhood wasn't an alien concept to the League. Summoners felt love. They had friends. They formed emotional bonds. All the childhood tales she heard about them, how they were beyond human, beyond emotion, were utter garbage. If anyone had the gall of saying summoners didn't feel emotions, she would sit them down right next to Samisen and force them to watch. This was a man was worried for his brother-in-arms, his college... his friend.
"Rex," the senior enchanter said quietly. The minion finally returned with the towel and bowl of water. Taking a wet towel from it, Samisen patted down Rexes' sweating forehead. "It's Sam," he whispered.
Malaya watched as Rexes broke from his seemingly endless trance, and turned his head toward the senior enchanter. "Sam," his voice was weak.
Samisen hushed him quietly. "Don't use too much of your energy." He spoke in a low, quiet tone, the same voice you would use to calm a child. "I'm not going to berate you. We don't know if he hurt you or not, but you're in good hands now," he paused and let the words sink in. Rexes seemed to acknowledge it with a gentle nod. "I hate myself for having to ask, but you're the only person who saw into his mind. What did you see?"
At the moment, Malaya swore Rexes stared right through Samisen's eyes and into his soul. "It was... dark, Sam. Like a labyrinth. All twists and turns, and places that haven't seen light in... in ages. It was dark, Sam. So dark, black became white. It was... it was so dark, Sam. So dark..."
Samisen lowered his head and gave a low sigh. "Thank you, Rex." He slowly rose from his seat and muttered another "Thank you," before quickly marching towards the exit.
Bewildered, Malaya called to him. "Senior Enchanter, what are you going to do with the champion?"
Samisen stopped and pivoted on the balls of his heels. Again, his face said it all. This wasn't the caring man that Malaya saw a minute ago. This was a summoner on the warpath. "He's going to fight in the League, Malaya, no matter what the Council has to say. And he's going to get his damn research. But the only reason we're going to find this 'cure' of his to kill him and not even bother leaving dust."