The Unmade by redspah

Melee Intelligence Hero

Description:

The Unmade is a fearsome assassin, shifting across the battlefield with Dissociation as It nears Its next target. Upon locating a suitable victim, It summons a Remnant to slow the enemy down while It slices them to death. Should It be counter initiated on, Taboo will turn the enemy intelligence against them, and should the gank turn into a teamfight, Identity Theft will ensure that The Unmade remains the greatest threat around.

Stats:

Base Damage: 44-51
Armor: 2
Attack Range: 150
Turn Rate: 1.0
Movement Speed: 310
Vision Range: 1800 / 800

STR: 19 + 2.4
AGI: 23 + 1.4
INT: 28 + 2.9

Roles:

• Carry: ✮✮☆
• Support: ✮☆☆
• Nuker: ✮☆☆
• Escape: ✮☆☆
• Disabler: ✮☆☆

Lore:

Names have power. Divine names have divine power.

No-one remembers Its name. No-one remembers the name of Its people, of Its land, of Its religion, of Its beliefs. They made sure of that.

A small remote civilization in a mountainous region, far off to the east. Limited in size, limited in the scope of ideas, with deities to match. Fertility. Bountiful Harvest. Long Life. No interest in anything beyond their mortal coil, or beyond any mountain ridge more than a day's walk away.

It was different. It, that would become the Unmade. A wild spirit, born of one underground spring or the other. Always the different one. Always the obscure. Where all the other lowly spirits would drift upwards, to the surface, to bathe in the lakes, to cause mischief, to mend a broken bone, It would drift deeper, deeper into the earth, into bedrock, into the molten shell, deeper, deeper still. Into the depths unknown, Into the darkness unfanthomable. There, there It found knowledge, knowledge beyond human knowing, knowledge beyond knowing divine. A name, a name of letters of void, of sounds of starfire, of meaning of eternity.

It found that name, and took it for Its own.

Not long after, with all lesser, nameless spirits subdued, crushed by Its name, bound by it's eternity, It crowned Itself as the new head deity of the people of the mountains. With It at their helm, the people experienced growth unseen anywhere else, before or after. Under Its guidance, the eyeless clerics brought knowledge otherworldly, knowledge inhuman. Crops grew higher than even the eldest of elders could recall, people grew older than their forebears, older by decades, older by centuries.

And with the multitudes of new followers, It grew in power too. Deeply focused on understanding what laid beyond the limits of knowing, be it human or divine, It hungered for more, for more knowledge beyond comprehension, knowledge beyond knowing, of which It has been granted just a sliver of in Its name. It studied deeper, researched further, stretched wider, wider into the depth, into the void, into the cosmic emptiness that limits lesser beings for perceiving what lays beyond. And as It studied, It eventually found something.

Or rather, something found It.

They came without warning, naught but a gust of wind, a shift in clouds, a drop in heat. They came, and they devoured all names They could find, be they human, divine, or something else entirely. There wasn't even enough time for panic to settle in before They were well on their way, slithering through the celestial emptiness, in search of the next being with a name powerful enough to see them. Powerful enough to be consumed, devoured, digested, powerful enough to sustain Their form, however briefly.

Without their names, the civilization was collapsed in an instant. Unable to think, to even form a basic connection between themselves and entities around them, the people starved to death, silent, with faces stuck in mute, all encompassing horror. The land was abandoned, peaks left nameless, formless, unholy. Spirits dispersed, desperate to carve themselves another name, begging all they could find to grant them one. As hard as they tried, other beings couldn't see them, couldn't hear them, couldn't comprehend them, not in their half digested, nameless forms.

It, however, endured, however barely. Stripped of all Its power, Its followers, Its name of god, Its name of void, It lingered on, working to bring whatever was left of Its form into one piece. With time, time beyond knowing, time beyond caring, It assembled Itself an ethereal coil, to carry Its gnawed remnants across the human plane, in search for a being powerful enough to grant It another name, a name of vengeance, a name of lust for power beyond divine.

And with time, the Ancients found It.