finalrites reblogged
I FEAR NO EVIL, THE SHADOW IS MINE AND SO IS THE VALLEY.
An event like Riot confirming yoricks gay only means I return to this blog again
SO YOU'RE TELLING ME THERE WAS A NEW YORICK SKIN AND NO ONE TOLD ME WHILE I WAS GONE.
finalrites reblogged
The sea that surrounds the piece of ground the isles are is highly harmful for most living things, considered to be the most tangible form of pure mist, – however, to the undead it is no more than water. One of the few activities Yorick performs during his free time is to swim and/or bathe in it, sometimes spending entire hours floating head up over the surface. The water is one of the closest things he has to consider “relaxing”.
Me: yorick swims and bathes Riot: hold my beer. Riot: he doesnt. Riot: Riot: bitch.
finalrites reblogged
Anonymous asked:
Do you have any regrets?
Absolutely! Thanks for the ask
I usually forget how physically scarred Yorick is.
finalrites reblogged
League of Legends locations explained in one sentence or less
- Bandle City: The Faewilds from D&D except populated by furries.
- Bilgewater: Where the only laws in existence are the ones you’re tough enough to enforce yourself.
- Demacia: Shining Justice Goodguy Land unless you’re a mage or a criminal, in which case you get to experience Super Racism.
- The Freljord: A winter wonderland where all your dreams will literally come true, especially all your bad ones.
- Ionia: Fantasy Asia except half-populated by furries.
- Mount Targon: The bullseye the gods are constantly trying to hit with darts.
- Noxus: The Strong may survive but they’re shit at ruling a nation.
- Piltover: The one city in every fantasy world where technology is inexplicably 300 years more advanced than anywhere else.
- The Shadow Isles: The snooze button that Bilgewater needs to hit every year to stop the apocalypse.
- Shurima: If Atlantis was built by Egyptians.
- The Void: Space except it’s hungry.
- Zaun: Piltover’s combination landfill, prison, and hazardous waste dump that’s congealed into Cyber-Australia.
♥♥♥ eww shes here to spread her Demon Cooties
Yorick has lived long enough to recognize evil, – true intentions and such. The touch of the dead is clear to his eyes at the hour of identifying, and so is the touch of the guilty – of those whose hands have been long-time stained. Yorick recognizes death, too.
Her touch is automatically answered with aversion – pulling him back as if it were an electric shock. His eyes remain fixed on hers, every single movement she made, a warning. His hand raises to his own cheek, – in there, the faux kiss of death. This nature is unknown to him, – but far too well he knows it shouldn’t be played with. His expression has long turned into one of disdain, fists clenched at sides.
“ There’s no prey here left for thou here. " A mutter, a tone only of spite – another warning, back at her. The mist slowly encloses to him.
A GOODBYE KISS / accepting.
finalrites reblogged
I just remembered SG Yorick I have to lay down now
SOME FACTS
- This is an actual srs verse.. didn’t start as a joke, surprisingly enough.
- Yorick was supposed to be of Ahri’s original team -- the little broken green jewel she was holding in the music vid.
- Died in combat. Kaput.
- His companions were four weasel-like creatures that were supposed to replace the ghouls in game. They would group alltogether to replace the Maiden when casted.
- His backstory was that he was in love with an also former teammate in the SG group. This one died in combat too against the void and would later become a darkstar -- following the theory that some dead guardians have a chance to become darkstars, their souls becoming corrupted entirely.
- Yorick’s death is caused due to him facing his now-corupted soulmate during a fight, and, in futile hopes of trying to get them back to their senses, blindly risking himself, he would be assassinated.
- That’s it. F.
EDIT: I also got all of this inspired by SG Ahri’s line “ Falling in love -- that’s how a star falls. “ Double F.
I just remembered SG Yorick I have to lay down now
finalrites reblogged
@finalrites
The man knelt on the ground, his hands examinating the soil beneath him. That was an area unknown to him. Why was he back on the Shadow Isles? He wasn’t ready to face Thresh just yet but maybe he would find something to help him with his task. He knew her soul was trapped in the lantern, but would killing the Warden release her? Who knew.
The soil around that area seemed to have been digged recently, what only raised his suspicion. Why would a damned soul go inside the earth like that?
With his guns held tightly, Lucian moved foward, somewhat tempted to find the source of that mystery as well.
Days tangled as years and years tangled into centuries ; the shepherd no longer recalls. Maybe it is due to the fact that his years start to wear him down in everything that can’t be seen : the lingering aftertaste of everything lost -- a fragment of memory, of something as simple as mortality. The shepherd aches for what was lost, and for the worst things to come. His essence is frail, and he knows the remains of his vial of life won’t last forever. He knows it too well -- the touch of death.
He thanks the dead, he thanks the innocent, for always granting him their stories -- for a tale is never wasted after it leaves someone’s lips, and specially if it comes from their last breath of life; this is how he keeps his day to day, keeping himself together with the always fragile uncertain deception of hope. And every day, every day -- he resents the graves more, oh -- how has he started to resent the soil, the rot, the decaying flesh. The quiet of the grave. The loose end finally cut. The place where light and dark meet, -- where you cross the river. The peace of eternity. He wishes others could see, the grace on it all ; the quiet passing, the end of the cycle -- for only but thoughts of relief to occupy the minds of the mortals, for them to live -- and oh, so live what’s left of light ! Yes. There is indeed beauty in decay. But Yorick knows, and tragically so, that he can’t ensure that peace. Not while the mist stays.
The isles accompany his thoughts, as always. The lonely shepherd walking forth, to a grave that isn’t his -- the scenery, always changing, by his side. Only the sight of something alien to the place reawakens him back to his senses, a certain automatic alert triggered inside him. He clutches the handle of his shovel.
“ The dead shall not be disturbed -- I hope thou art aware. “ It is a warning, yet not hostile. He stands on his place, only a couple feet away ; the stranger too far away for him to identify it’s nature.
Just saying, but if Yorick defeats the ruin -- that mean’s he’ll die. He’ll get all he ever wanted -- to see the light of the end for one last time before the quiet.
finalrites reblogged
eclipsethem-deactivated20200216
@finalrites gets a starter !
“ you reek of death . ” her tone was curt as she eyed the man before her . morgana was intrigued yet disturbed by him . death to an angel , was beneath them . it was for the wretched , not those who were deemed divine . “ why are you here mortal ? you should leave . ”
“ --- ' mortal ‘, huh ... ” It tastes simply wrong ‘pon his tongue ; and it’s almost cruel, a bad taste joke to him, simply due to the fact that the lingering idea about his mortality is but an open wound in the gravedigger -- a latent reminder of the curse of destiny crowning him. What a cruel fate, dear Yorick. But now, the only way he reflects that is but a scoff and a faulty grin. You’ve humored him, stranger in black. He doesn’t even reacts to the other’s presence, no longer ; their mock is enough. ‘ -- I wish it would be that way, wanderer ... I can only but wish. ‘
finalrites reblogged
eyes 3