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dala-siaka · 1 year ago

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League Concept: Flying Wyverns (ft. THROGG?!?!)

Hello beasties! Remember that guy I was rewriting? This man started in the same train of thought as Kyridon. Actually he was the OG. And he was admittedly not as cool. Or lore wise, thought out. He was PURELY designed for being a monster champ with a brawler kit.

And boy he has grown in concept since the start of 2021.

Let me tell you about a troll. His name is Throgg

Throgg from Warhammer Fantasy is one of the most intelligent individuals in the Old World. And most definitely the most intelligent troll period. While his original appearance did not paint him as especially bright, if just exceptionally competent in tactics. Yet The Kinslayer and End Times saga painted him a far more intelligent force. Like, he was Warhammer Fantasy's take on Smaug, having such a Shakespearean flair that one did not expect from some senior aged troll.

milkandcookiesTW does an exceptional video on the dude, and I do recommend reading Kinslayer as they not only make him the big bad, but also just because Felix and Gotrek books are just swag.

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What does this do with our boy here? Well, the story below details that juxtaposition between pure predator and architect of the future of an entire species. Also yes we're revisiting the Freljord again fuckers because the Northern Lands of Ice and Frost need more things to kill you.

----

In the Frozen lands, there lies the ancestral site of the Laitivern, the original Rulers of the Sky. For Generations, hundreds of these wyvern clans would roost within the massive elder volcano of Wyrms Furnace, their kin dominating the skyline. And at one point they were not just limited to the Freljord either, for they had in older days conquered the world. They were cunning, and recognized that in a world of great beasts, numbers overwhelming lead to victory. They existed alongside Man, Troll, Minotaur, and Vastaya, but they were not on equal terms. They raided Man and Minotaur, competed with Troll, and preyed upon Vastaya. Their namesake became synonymous with dragons, for a flock of wandering Laitiverns could very easily overwhelm a territory and strip it of livestock and soldiers.

The Rune Wars changed this dynamic however, for the sorcery unfolded onto the world would scar the lands they called home. Magibeast once dormant before days of creation rose up, and tempered the land in strange horrific ways. Magic radiated into new and terrifying plagues, and for as clever as the The Laitivern were, they did not know how to combat these new threats. But the other races did, and though they too had an uphill battle, they gained a footing when the Laitiverns themselves could not. They disappeared from most of the world, and those who resided in the Freljord soon found that Man and Troll had grown stronger. Now their meals were stolen away, or their hunting flocks ambushed and feasted upon. Some of these terrible magic plagues tore into scales like scalding iron, and left them too weak to fly. And those who could not fly, they starved. Many clans were razed in this era, and the Laitivern went into hiding, less they attracted the unwanted attention of Dragon Hunters and Slayers.

Those around the Freljord could sometimes go weeks without a successful kill. And as the magibeast roamed the land, and the shamans spread themselves out far and wide, those at Wyrm's Furnace had an idea to feed on them instead. The flesh of Balestag or Frost Casting Yeti could suffice a flock for much longer than a typical boar or cave bear. These hunts were not… always successful… but those who came back proved themselves the most capable and cunning of their flock, and were awarded the title of Mach'dala, or "Soul Downer''.

To their surprise, the young that ate upon the sweet meat of these corrupted creatures seemed to grow a powerful resistance to crippling frost magic, or bolts of channeled fire. Seeing positive effects of their more daring hunts, the tradition carried on, and slowly did their magical potency grow as those same hatchlings would then grow up into Mach'dala themselves. Near the modern age, as Noxus crashed the gates of holds in the east of the Freljord, some Laitiverns could deflect the magic, and those that had hunted shamans could now bring their own runic powers to the hunt. But they had also harnessed in this time the "Styg '', or "Wrath". The ability to breathe a clouded emission black as storm clouds and rolling with red thunder, that could direct at prey and foe alike. The Laitivern became known as Galdrveiðrormr, or as the Mage Hunter Wyverns. And those of Wyrm's Furnace grew bold, and even with Anivia in the skies… they claimed the heavens as their domain.

Wyrm's Furnace however was full of more Laitiverns than the Mach'dala. There were the Oldsouls who guided the roost and healed its soldiers, the Foragers who gathered supplies for nesting and firemaking, the Bouncers who protected the roost, and the Carvers, who carved out rock for them to build more nests and roosts. An apt home for hatchling, with many careers to seek. Among a clutch of eggs that belonged to a esteemed Carver and Mach'dala, was Veyolkos.

It was very clear after he hatched he was born a gifted hatchling, with his scales sharpening very early on, and learning to glide within a month of hatching. But this caused the problem where he was a bit too curious. Curiosity in the Freljord for even humans and Yordles has to be tempered, otherwise death would be the answer to the inquiry. So they kept him near the Oldsouls, who had no qualm with watching a hatchling. Except Veyolkos the moment he learned to speak, had too many questions. He asked why they collected spears, and was told they were warrior's trophies. When he asked if he could make a spear, the elders were dumbfounded, and had no idea if they could. Humans seemed to make them with ease, but they were so thin the Laitivern's saw them as an inconvenience. What use was a weapon if you were already so dangerous unarmed. He didn't like the answer, and attempted to make such spears. And then axes. And then disastrously, a bow. After a few days and a few more missing scales and bruises from the Laitivern Chick's attempted craftsmanship, they relieved Veyolkos of their watch, the Oldsouls growing tired of his boundless energy and always fidgeting talons resulting in injuries around the roost.

This was unseemly, as chicks could easily get lost or snatched up by an Azurite Eagle. But a few experienced foragers agreed, for his mother couldn't take him as she hunted far more dangerous beasts, and his father worked near falling stone for a living. Taking him under their wing, they showed them the shells they used to forage water, and the branches they searched for that carried the healing ingredients needed for the Oldsouls to use. They showed him flint, and chunks of metal along the cliff faces that helped start flame. And this, seemed to get him wondering if the wood they harvested for the fires couldn't be used to make something else. Especially seeing how easily the wind could snatch their cache from their talons. So he took to some branches, and as the veterans foraged, attempted to make a basket. He had never seen a basket, but he figured something that could hold multiple supplies at a time they could carry in their jaws and talons, was far easier. And to his chagrin, after six fell apart, the seventh carried back 3 shells of water and a bundle of medicinal batteries. The Veterans were curious about the little thing, and asked the young hatchling how it was made. And Veyolkos was more than happy to show.

As he grew into a Yearling, he would continue as a forager. Though he would not lie, he wasn't particularly fond of just being a forager. Yes he made baskets for collecting, but he also wanted to make more with the sticks, bones, and stones at his disposal. So he made for larger baskets yes, and sleds to make transporting caches easier, but he also took to equipping himself with armor. Most notably, taking the hides of kills and tanning them to make leather. To make into stripes. And to create spears around his face and shoulders, as to create a formidable defense as he and other foragers would descend into the valley to steal from the Freljord's wolves and bears. Veyolkos despite his size would always attempt to lead the attack, for though he was similar in size to the bears he believed his craftsmanship would stand the test against them. And the first couple attempts did not. But he learned to treat the wood with flame, and sharpen the bone instead of just relying on its broken pieces. And soon his body was among the veterans as they reaped hard earned scraps, as he tore into their furred hides with sharpened blades and claws, bringing back extra to be eaten, and additionally bringing him more materials to work with.

Though the Bouncers found his designs to be… the work of a fledgling that had yet to realize his true strength, the Foragers were more than happy to use his new equipment. Veyolkos at first believed he could create a new career, here in Wyrm's Furnace. As much as he enjoyed gathering, he couldn't help but feel it would be wasted potential. While others saw shapes and landmarks, he saw patterns. Patterns that could be manipulated and made into something new. For his siblings he created shields of bone and hide, to protect their sides once they were applied. When they went off to hunt, they wouldn't be as scathed by a predator's blows, but they did return with the armor mangled and torn. Which only incentivised him to cure leather and toughen the hide at his disposal.

But at two years of age, all his planning and testing was interrupted by his mother. His mother saw his tinkering not as the work of a brilliant mind or an opportunistic artist, but a soul yearning for conflict. Wolves and Elk wouldn't cut it, no, he'd need bigger prey. She told him that since he could fly with expertise now, that he must return home with magically gifted prey. Veyolkos was mortified at first, for he had heard his mother's stories of those beasts beyond in the Old Pines and Evergrowth. But before he went out, he asked her to let him prepare for it. She accepted, and for 2 months he fastened himself a suit of leather, bone, and took from an abandoned den, a worn out and torn chest piece of steel to make as a helm. And so he went out on his hunt, soaring through the skies in ragged armor. There amidst stormy skies he scoured, the pelts of his armor keeping him protected from the bite of winter's wind.

The storm he flew into made it so visibility was low, but amidst the flurry he caught sight of a fire deep in a cave. He perched outside of it, resting atop the mouth of the cave, as he let himself lay low and hid beneath the white blanket of the precipitation. There he saw a lone man, decorated in bear furs moving back to the cave, unaware of the danger lurking above his own refuge. He had heard of Shamanic Werebears, and wondered if though not the largest kill to make, if it would draw the praise of his roost. This was his first magibeast to down, not fed to him in shreds from the mouth of an elder or his mother.As soon as the shaman passed under the roof of the cave Veyolkos shot forward like a panther leaping towards a bird in flight. His body contorted, facing the man as the man instinctively entered his Ursine state. The two collided, bouncing into the cave as both tried to land their jaws on the throat of the other. But Veyolkos’s face spears became too difficult to navigate around, and so the Ursine departed, bleeding from his chest and arms, and tried to find a new way to attack this armored Laitivern. Veyolkos would look around, to find that indeed, Laitivern scales were used in the making of spears and axes. He snapped his jaws as the Ursine tried to rush for his flank, only to pull away, revealing that hidden along their neck was the teeth of bear, wolf, raptor… Laitivern. This Shaman most likely had experience, and knowing killing a slayer like him could prove dangerous to his people, he immediately went to flee, only to feel the Ursine crash into him and knock him over, immediately trying to go for his chest, yet seemed somewhat stunned when his claws only struck hide and stone. Which he had still torn apart, but had not reached the vitals of the Laitivern. Taking advantage of the situation, Veyolkos slapped the Ursine onto its back, and flipping himself up with cat-like agility. He plunged his head spears into the Ursine Man’s side and continued the fight, as the bear man clawed away at his face only for Veyolkos to plunge his spears deeper into the shaman. The struggle was long and brutal, Veyolkos withdrawing only after the Ursine stopped swiping away with their claws. His own face was a bloody mess, but beyond the blood flowing down his eyes, he was able to see the man’s bag. Torn up during their brawl, he noticed its contents included a long scroll, made from the skin of a seal. He nabbed it and the man’s body, flying off with his catch.

He returned to his mother and the elders, presenting his kill as he panted, before showing off his armor. He harshly dropped the shaman before their feet, before ripping a chunk out of the Ursine’s flesh, harshly gulping down the pelt and viscera. He couldn't hear anything they said, but he assumed he had pleased them. He climbed to the top of the Qyrm's Furnace, and took to studying the runes engraved onto the pelt, occupied only by the howl of the wind.

----

Laitivern mature rapidly at a young age, then it slowly peters out once they reach twelve years of age. As sub-adults they are not yet old enough to court or start their own clutch, but they can hunt amongst one another with some independence. Veyolkos had decided to flip flop between the Forager groups and Mach'dala. Amongst his siblings he was an alien, they adhered to the ways of old. And so he was most regarded not as a pack mate, but a tag-along. And so on their hunts he'd disappear for a time, since they wanted nothing to do with his inventions. But that was fine for Veyolkos. He'd begun smiting since he was seven, and had outfitted his talons with claws befitting a king. Silver he had learned, had some properties that could protect him from the surge of energy his prey usually outputted. Mystical stags he'd search for, not awake. For their speed was so frighteningly swift he could never keep up. When he found such prey he'd make sure they were sleeping. Sometimes he'd silently move in and pin the magibeast down, eating them alive. Other times he just found it easier to grab a large chunk of ice or a boulder to drop on them and concuss them. Before taking his talons to their throat. Should he find the campsites of hunters, he'd make sure none were around before taking any armor or artifacts they possessed as novelties to research. Most treasured to him was literature,for even power fantasies where the author obviously transposed himself into his work he found utterly fascinating. His favorite thing to catch he had created a pulley system just to harpoon the beast: The Frost Serpent. He had found their hide was too sharp and smooth to gain purchase with talons, and they moved so quickly that it would be a miracle to catch their giant eyes to rangle the beast. So Veyolkos had learned to harpoon them as soon as possible, and cranking the pulley could effectively keep one in place and slowly drag it to be butchered. His siblings called it cheating and barbaric. He called it an opportunity, for their sharp scales and fangs made for excellent blades and armor scaling.

Among his foraging kin he'd fashion them nets, should everyone be feeling more in the need for fish and seal. And he'd create great traps to capture Elnüks. The Foragers also noted how he often searched for herbs when they were available, and whatever food they had he would use them on the meat. At first they found it strange to add greens to their carrion, but when cooked, or he put it in a stone pot he had made and boiled them together, opinions changed quickly. He was always fast on the wing, and that made him exceptionally good at catching the more mundane prey. And they knew for a fact he would hunt the yetis that marched around their territory, plucking them straight from the sky only to drop them to the earth, like an eagle does with a tortoise.

Though his most macabre behavior of butchery. Impaling his prey to the trees and their branches, so that he could take his claws and remove their hides, and cut their flanks. He had made a basket specifically for this act, and he'd return with the cut pieces and prepare it for whoever was willing to eat from his kills. Sometimes he'd return with the helm of a Frostguard, other times the necklace of the Ursine, and rarely the weapons of the Winter's Claw. To the Laitivern he was still Veyolkos, but he had heard himself spoken about in times where he lurked in the shadows outside of man's fire glow… as The Windrazor. Veyolkos appreciated the name, and on his 14th year decided that his title should be just that: The Windrazor.

Naturally though as tensions rised in the Freljord, with the coming of the Dominion and the Walled Settlements of the Avarosans, hunts were now far more stressful. Especially now that Wyrm's Furnace was repeatedly being raided by Tribal Yordle, Trolls, and Slayers of The Winter's Claw. To kill a Laitiverns had always been a statement to one's hunting prowess, but their sharp scales and strong hide made for excellent armor and weapon crafting. The Bouncers were strong folk, but they were being overrun. As some bouncers fell after raid after raid, and The Mach'dala themselves would fall, Veyolkos stopped his hunts, and stayed behind to watch over his kin's ancestral site, ready to prove himself capable of protecting their roost. He took to what resources he had, and through convincing, equipped the remaining Bouncers In Armor, protecting their faces and chest, yet still allowing them to shoot their scales out at the enemy. He asked upon the Carvers to find fine stone deep within Wyrm's Furnace, and bring it to him. There he'd teach them, including his own father, to make blades for the tails of The Bouncers, and these blue, steel-shining great blades were so refined in quality that they could take down scores of men, and even without their cutting edge the weight alone could crush a troll's skull.

He rallied the foragers and equipped them in shields that protected their flanks, and branded their heads with metal spears and their chest with plates made of thick hides and stone. They would go out there to scout first the whereabouts of these hunters, using the cover of night and thunderstorm to determine exactly how these raiders planned to take them. Mach’dala and Bouncers occupied any forces coming from their east and north, while they determined the best possible way to strike. Veyolkos also searched out the Vellox tribes that wandered near their territory, and communed with Yetis. He raised to them teh cruelty they had been experiencing, and how together, they could not only protect Wyrm’s Furnace, but all those in the freljord. He was no longer just trying to protect the Laitiverns, he was amassing an army to do so. He asked his siblings and mother to aid him in such encounters, and at first confused and just going along, they had not the slightest idea why? Only to see Vellox cowering and Yetis lowering their ice clubs in their presence, as Veyolkos spoke with haunting authority, though the other Mach’dala could not discern what he was saying. They would bow to each other, and then the non-laitiverns would leave. Only for Veyolkos to tell them each time:

“Numbers make us look professional. A mad Laitivern rambling does not hold the same power unless occupied by his kin. Especially if he speaks their tongue.”

He would soon talk with the Oldsouls his next set of plans, to continue teaching the carvers how to sculpt armor, and to carve out more dens for the new alliances.. The Oldsouls at first seemed offended by the preposition. They lambasted him for getting distracted. He had always needlessly complicated everything with redundancy and risks. At first Veyolkos let them ramble on, insulting his plans and his reliance on historical enemies, and his cruel affection towards melting metal to crudely reshape it. He then snickered after they had their say, and wandered back to his den. But not without departing to them some words, his tone callous,

“I was not asking for permission, I was letting you know.”

Continuously during their scouting, Veyolkos would plunge deeper past their territories to find covens in the moonlight, gliding silently to learn of their language, and their magics. For his many years with the scroll of his first kill, it had yet to dawn on him what it could mean. But as he had gotten older, he had gotten wiser, and more keen to meaning and interpretation. And understanding the magics their enemies often used was part of the battle. Know the enemy, more than they know you. And as he grew to understand the runic languages, he’d return back to the roost. He would make sure armor was being made, weapons being carved, food being prepared and stored. He’d have the foragers learn to create new tonics and wrappings to aid the bouncers, and then he’d retreat to his den. Only to take the scroll out and reach the highest peak to study the writing. The humans were obsessed with things beyond them. They shared that, and yet as he came to rehearse the incantations, he understood the nature of the scrolls. To shape into something else. To shape into another form of beast. He held in this information, and seeing what needed to be done, he tucked it away into his den. And prepared for conflict. Afterall, blood was to be spilled.

----

It turned out a large group of mercenaries, slayers, and soldiers of the Winter’s Claw had made their trek to Wyrm’s Furnace to finally get the materials needed for their employers or clan. War is, in part, a business, and buyers have strict schedules and due dates. As they ventured towards Wyrm’s Furnace, they noted how quiet it was. The Freljord could be isolating and haunting, but even here the wind seemed only distant. And as they reached the edge of the treeline heading towards the clearing, four of them took a step too far to the right, and were suddenly plunged straight into the earth. Looking down at their comrades, all they found was the four impaled on spikes of carved cedar, bleeding out as they stared down at the bottom of the pit. As if on cue, bolts were fired at the encroaching band of hunters and mercenaries. Many mages put up barriers for them and their crew as they ran past the treeline, shields raised for those who did not have arcane energies protecting them. But the bolts had come high from the peaks, before a new wave set upon the encroaching men. These bolts were massive, more akin to ballista as they descended down, taking a seventeen more of the hunters, limiting their numbers. As they saw no Laitivern in the sky, many shouted for their fellow man to take cover, as they rushed for the massive jutting stones that surrounded the mountain. Many took bows or muskets and fired up where the shots were coming from, hoping to score some blows.

Then they heard something coming from where the Laitiverns roosted. An eerie, discordant hymn, and it felt like those at the base of the mountain were no longer alone. They all felt it: something has gone deeply and irreversibly wrong… and they needed to start running. As soon as they were going to reposition, they heard screeching as a great pack of raptors descended upon them. With the beasts’ strong back legs and jagged bills, a few more mercs fell before the raptors were ignited by the magics of the mage or the molten lead of muskets. And yet the raptors stayed firm, dragging people out into the opening clearing. Some of those people dragged out were able to down the beast with spears and axes, and as soon as they stood up to seek cover, they were pelted with boulders. Attacking the hunters now were Yetis, roaring and beating their chest as they grabbed clubs and warpaddles before charging in. Some of them, the smaller white haired primates, fell, but the elders stayed strong and crashed into their flank.

Retreating up, they soon were beset upon by Vellox, whose snow leopard print helped them camouflage into the mountain, as their human faces suddenly bared saber fangs as robust monstrous winged arms threw them towards the hunters, tussling with them as they scrapped on the steps of the Laitivern’s roosting site. Weapons striked against flesh with the same ferocity of claws and fangs sundering armor. The Vellox had ways to avoid a direct engagement, with some departing to blow onto their foes winter’s cold embrace, freezing them in place. Yet still Vellox would fall, but as they did the Raptors and Yetis charged from behind, hoping to take the hunter’s down with them if they could. And the hymn above became not some eerie whisper, but a chaotic cacophony being blown through the horn of a ram. Before a Vellox would climb onto a rock and chant, and as she began her most terrifying dirge, the roost erupted with the sound of metal and flapping wings.

The chaos that ensued was swift and brutal, as the Laitiverns defended their ancestral site with an unmatched ferocity. The hunters and mercenaries found themselves vastly outnumbered and overwhelmed as descending onto the group like a horde of wasps were the Laitiverns they had come to hunt. Many bolted for the treeline, running as the Laitivern’s armor blocked their shots, and they threw themselves towards the mages, dragging them away as more of their kin flew ahead of the humans, claws lowering as they lifted the men into the heavens, tearing them apart as they took the remains back to the roost. The ground shook beneath the clashing forces, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle cries, roars, and the piercing screeches of the Laitiverns. Many of those from The Winter’s Claw stood their ground, and those slayers were able to counter the aerial dives of the Laitiverns. Yet they didn’t expect to suddenly be confronted by the heavily armored form of Laitivern Bouncers, Yetis, and Vellox barreling down the mountain towards them. Nor the synchronized volleys of scales being thrown at them.

Veyolkos had expected a larger group, and though mildly disappointed at only two hundred something men, it made his job way easier. He soared through the sky, leading the foragers and his siblings in a coordinated attack. He darted through the air like a dark shadow, shedding his scales like a storm of glinting blades to lacerate and weaken their forces, before with the cold calculation and agility of a falcon in the dive to strike with deadly precision. And when he noted the flank they were striking was in disarray, he lunged for a sorceress clinging behind a rock for cover. He dived down again, tucking in his wings as he descended from a great height towards her. He angled himself to the side and spread out his wings, coasting down towards her with talons outstretched, seeing the hunter witch’s eyes widen as his talons enveloped her chest. As he nabbed her he flew towards the center of combat, letting loose a series of Styg projectiles onto the enemy to scatter their forces. It wouldn’t be long now till they either broke, or were devoured. So as he applied crushing pressure to her ribs within his grasp, he had to act quickly. He flew behind many a peak to hide his position, as he landed on his perch for which he had titled his study, harshly throwing her down.

He grabbed his scroll, and as he set the stone down on the edges of the scroll, she began to scream at him, of course. She had expected to hunt creatures a little above yetis in wit, not, whatever this armored beast was.

“What!? What the fuck are you planning?!”

He scoffed at her, making sure the seal skin scroll was secure as he turned to face her with a look of not pride nor indifference, but the look of a tiger caught stalking its quarry.

“The intellect I have can be gifted unto another. I refuse to see my society surrounded by witless animals.”

Now was her turn to scoff, as she leered at him with a mocking tone.

“Awwww… golden boy feels he’s wasted on chewing bones with the rest of his packmates-”

He slammed his bladed tail onto her with a sudden harshness, the woman hacking and wheezing as she felt her body crumple from the strike, as he approached her with way too much a casual stride, as he picked her up with his wing claws.

“Though river streams and hills grow steeper, man grows a little more shallow. What right do you have to try and belittle me, witless tool? You have come to slay, and now are to be slain. At least your death will merit some greater use!”

She squirmed in his hold, as he held her over the paper, the Laitivern chanting as she screamed for him to let go, a spell loading within her palm to smite the Laitivern. Veyolkos could see the runes begin to glow in her presence, and so he raised his other wing talon, aiming it at her neck, knowing to make it quick-

“I will give you the taste of the beast that you see in me!"

And in a sudden slicing movement she felt skin tear, then muscle, then a tingling warm pooling before her consciousness fled. And she coughed, though as her blood fell onto the scroll, and as it did she too began to fade, though slightly, as color fled from her skin and hair, her body a dull gray wash as the luminance from the pages poured into his chest. The new rush of energy was paralyzing at first, as he stumbled back, her form turning into mere ashes as they blew over his scales, branding his face in white stripes that ran down his nostril and under his eyes, branding some of the patterning in his wings. When he could finally move, he heard Yetis howling, Vellox roaring, and Laitivern’s trilling. He soon flew back to the scene below, as the many parties feasted on those who decided to experience a warrior's death. Veyolkos landed before them, breathing heavily from the exertion of the ritual. They seemed oblivious to what he had done, assuming him to have just been pursuing the marauders.

To his surprise, the Oldsouls and the Elders approached The Windrazor, their demeanor now changed. They had witnessed the rewards of his planning, and wordlessly bowed to him. He was dumbstruck by the wordless praise he had received. One of respect. His mother and father, having been in the fight, showed their throat to him, the highest level of trust and respect a laitivern could receive. He began to fidget in place, before broadening out his wings, and roaring to the crown a decree. A promise.

“THIS! THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING! TO AN AGE OF BEASTS!”

For now he had the skills gained to understand his enemy… far more intimately than before.

Veyolkos Kit:

Passive-Volatile Coating: The more damage he takes from Epic Monsters, Dragons, or Enemy Champs, the more his energy bar is filled. Once filled Veyolkos can charge his next attacks with draconic energy with increased movement speed for 3 seconds

Q - Voltaic Lunge: Veyolkos lunges towards a targeted location, knocking back any enemy champion or minion he collides with. Upon impact, a searing energy mark is left on the target, dealing physical damage.

W - Thousand Blades: Veyolkos sheds part of his armor for a brief moment, sending shards flying outward in all directions. These shimmering shards damage any enemy champions and minions they hit.

E - Evasive Maneuvers: With lightning speed, Veyolkos rapidly dashes away while releasing Styg energy forward, dealing additional searing damage if performed up close. From a distance, the Styg inflicts minor physical damage.

Ultimate - Flight of The Razorwing: Veyolkos takes to the skies, gaining enhanced mobility. During this time, his abilities undergo changes:

Voltaic Lunge becomes Thunderous Grapple, allowing him to tackle and immobilize a single enemy champion.

Thousand Blades transform into Draconic Cleave, a 360-degree tail swipe that damages all nearby enemies.

Evasive Maneuvers evolves into Laitivern's Dive, granting Veyolkos an arching leap with a powerful energy blast upon landing.

----

Aighty so physically he's gone like over... several hundred iterations. What remains consistent is the general build of Seregios, from the sharp scales, wing walking, and face. While also incorporating the more panthurine movement and tail slams of Nargacuga.

He's also gone through like several hundred actual redesigns, and while he started as just that: A flying wyvern capable of speech, he did evolve more into an analog to Throgg. And while Trundle is a legitimate troll king and is pretty sick, he more or less serves as a modestly competent himbo in a alliance with Lissandra. Veyolkos fills the roll of a cunning beast going through great lengths to ensure he has the means to play his cards correctly. He likes to innovate, he likes to build, but most importantly he likes to share that knowledge to elevate his people. But he also understands the sinister nature of his action, and how it spawned partially from necessity, but mostly through curiosity.

His own desire to stake out his claim and plunge Runeterra into an era of beast speaks to as sense of him wanting to elevate his people, and a naivety to the danger of his ambitions.

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