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Brilliance Itself: The Epic Dr. Franken Flicker!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Nov 02, 2017

Only morons keep their brains inside their skulls. Check out the Epic Dr. Franken Flicker’s innovative mind-stimulating medical technology!

 


MODEL CHANGES

  • Back-mounted smart battery
  • Dual-lens surgical safety goggles
  • Heavy-duty medical-grade rubber gloves
  • Laboratory smock
  • Abnormally genius brain floating in preservative fluid & encased in handy portable lantern

EFFECTS & ANIMATION CHANGES

  • Bubbling fluid escapes from lantern
  • Electricity crackles on crit impact
  • Binding Light has a bubbling green gas crackling with lightning
  • Fairy Dust surrounds Flicker with a green electric gas that ends with an electric pop!
  • Preservative fluid splashes from the lantern with an electric burst during Mooncloak
  • Electric gas enshrouds Flicker and his allies while they are stealthed
  • Occasionally wears the brain lantern like a hat 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

Evil Laughter Ensues

Here is the trouble with brains: they are encased in thick skulls where they cannot be properly stimulated except by brute and inaccurate force. In a feat of great brilliance, after several mostly-successful fairy brain removals, I have detached my own brain from my body. Here it is! Look at it! Isn’t it beautiful?

With this ingenious battery pack that I developed, I poke electric current into my brain when I wish to enjoy a new clever idea. Behold!

ZAP!

Ah-ha! A self-propelled machine with two juxtaposed blade cutters, each associated with an electric motor…

ZAP!

…and an electronic system for controlling the forward movement of said machine…

ZAP!

…hehehe ho ho oh my dear no. I must have stimulated the ticklish bit that time. Hehehehe… let’s make it stop now…

ZAP!

…with a memorized algorithm for seeking botanical surfaces to be utterly – hahaha! – mowed down. I shall call it the Lawn Mower. The Meekos won’t know what hit them! My genius astounds even me.


Read Flicker’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection


 WALLPAPERS

The Epic Elbow-Dropping ‘Cagefighter’ Ardan is Coming Soon!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Oct 31, 2017

‘Cagefighter’ Ardan is defending his title in a brutal fight against the up-and-comer, Meat Truck. Keep reading to learn more about this essential epic skin!

 


MODEL, ANIMATION & SFX CHANGES

  • Drops a FLYING ELBOW into a CAGE for Gauntlet ultimate!
  • MMA glove and power-punch gauntlet
  • Championship belt
  • Shin guards & mixed martial arts shorts
  • New two-tone hairstyle and facial hair
  • Winged back and “JULIA” heart tattoos


ALTERNATE FATE LORE

Fight Night

SUGARVENOM: Hello and welcome to Fight Night on the Halcyon Fold! I’m here with Playoffbeard live at the final matchup of the evening, the one you’ve all been waiting for: ‘One Punch’ Ardan is all set to defend his title from Meat Truck, the up-and-comer who’s been running over his opponents.

PLAYOFFBEARD: The smack talk has been brutal over the last several weeks. Meat Truck is notorious for getting into opponents’ heads on social media, but Ardan maintained that he respects all of his opponents and just wanted a good clean fight …

SUGARVENOM: … that is, until Meat Truck posted, and I quote: “MAYBE IF ARDAN BETTER FIGHTER, JULIA STILL BE ALIVE.”

PLAYOFFBEARD: Yikes.

SUGARVENOM: That’s when the drama started. Now there’s no love lost between these two.

PLAYOFFBEARD: Ardan is pacing the cage, maintaining eye contact with Meat Truck while the ref gives instructions. SugarVenom, do you think Ardan is feeling the pressure?

SUGARVENOM: If he is, he isn’t showing it. Ardan is the most focused fighter to have competed in this cage, but he’ll still have to use every advantage to secure a K.O. tonight.

PLAYOFFBEARD: Meat Truck will be looking for one big hit to end the fight early, but we’re going to see a clear dexterity advantage from Ardan.

SUGARVENOM: Dexterity won’t help when Meat Truck decides to charge – but he might eat Ardan’s power gauntlet on contact.

PLAYOFFBEARD: Of course, we all know what the fans are excited to see …

SUGARVENOM: … Ardan’s flying elbow drop.

PLAYOFFBEARD: It’s such a deadly finisher. If Ardan can pull it off early, I’d bet that Meat Truck won’t leave many tire tracks in this cage.

SUGARVENOM: And there’s the bell. Round one has begun!


Read Ardan’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection

WALLPAPERS

Coming Soon: the Rare Ra’dagio!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Oct 25, 2017

The Horus King awakens the Sun God and demands help for his people – but it will all be for naught if they cannot defeat the Guardian. Read on to discover more about Ra’dagio!

 


MODEL CHANGES

  • Scarab & snake decorations
  • Talons on hands and feet
  • Pharaoh’s headdress & golden armor on arms, legs, head & wings
  • Wesekh collar


ALTERNATE FATE LORE

Read Part I: The Lost Temple of Ra

The Sun God Awakens

There was no sign of the guardian in the buried dark, only the smell of ancient magic. The Horus King’s torch cast an eerie glow over glyphs carved into the walls depicting forgotten wars and warning visitors.

Through the labyrinthine mastaba the king traversed. Again and again he turned around at the sealed door to a tomb of one or another of his ancestors, pharaohs all, until he could no longer recall the direction of the obelisk. He trained his mind away from confusion and pushed forward into the heavy silence.

At last he discovered the base of the obelisk. The Horus King placed his hand at the center of a sun glyph and the great door opened down into the floor. Sand poured down as the obelisk trembled and changed shape. The pyramidion high above turned and opened to the bright hot sky. The Horus King stepped inside the obelisk, now illuminated with sunlight, and approached the dais where the sun god laid motionless.

The Horus King waited as the sun bathed Ra’s resting form. From above, bright-colored sand blew in through the windows and swirled down.

At last, Ra awakened. He sat up, sand falling from his headdress and coating the ever-youthful skin of his chest, arms and legs. In the sunlight he was a sparkling vision. The Horus King bowed to his beauty and power, his head down, until Ra touched him on the shoulder.

“Why has the Horus King awakened the Sun God?” asked Ra. Behind his voice was ill-concealed laughter.

“The Glass City has fallen to a great power,” said the Horus King. His voice, though muted behind his mask, was grave. “Our people have fled to the desert.”

“From where came this power?” asked Ra.

“From the Fabled Well,” answered the Horus King. “Poisonous and wild things have emerged from its depths that we have never seen.”

“The Churn has come,” sighed Ra. “You should have awakened me sooner.”

“Your temple was buried in a sandstorm brought on by this Churn,” said the Horus King.

“Your only hope now lies in your children’s children,” said Ra. “When the Churn has passed, they will unearth from the wreckage of the Glass City your people’s writings, art, architecture and bones.”

“No,” said the Horus King. “We will fight this Churn, you and I.”

Ra laughed. “Such pride!”

“You built the Fabled Well long ago to fight this Churn. Since then, my people have learned much about magic, technology, and other powers. Something new can be done.”

“Very well,” said the Sun God, impressed despite himself. “I will travel with you to the Glass City and see –”

He was interrupted by a rumbling growl from the tombs.

“You have not yet defeated the guardian?” scoffed the Sun God.

The Horus King drew his spear. Without answering, he left the bright obelisk and followed the terrifying noise into the dark tomb.

 


Read Adagio’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection


 WALLPAPERS

Check out the Legendary ‘Fly or Die’ Baron!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Oct 04, 2017

Skye isn’t the only hero sporting a sweet new ride. Baron has a brand-new mech that converts into a helicopter for high-tech, speedy fun!


MODEL, ANIMATION & SFX CHANGES

  • Transforms into a helicopter while sprinting & Jump Jetting
  • Re-designed cherry-red mech with helicopter nacelles
  • All new air-to-ground missile launcher
  • Checks his rotor while idling
  • Whistling sound for falling Porcupine Mortars & Ion Cannons
  • Zoom! mechanical sounds during Jump Jets
  • Improved Head Up Display sunglasses
  • Hand-signals to start engines, transforms and flies on recall
  • Time Porcupine Mortars during Jump Jets for a sweet heli-flip

 


 

 


Read Baron’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection


WALLPAPERS

Celebrate the Autumn Festival with Three ‘Moon’ Lyra skins!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Sep 29, 2017

The moon bunnies can’t decide: is Lyra a Queen, an Empress or a Goddess? Either way, the ruler of the moon lives there all alone. She needs a friend to help her celebrate the Autumn Festival. Read more about ‘Moon Queen,’ ‘Moon Empress’ and ‘Moon Goddess’ Lyra below!


MODEL CHANGES

Each ‘Moon’ Lyra skin has a brand-new look, including distinctive antlers!

‘Moon Empress’ Lyra

  • Flowered violet silk hanfu robes
  • Knotted & rolled hairstyle with golden rings and medallion
  • Violet & gold, moon bunny embossed book

‘Moon Queen’ Lyra

  • Royal red & green silk dangui hanbok
  • Ornamented eoyeo meori hairstyle
  • Red & gold, moon bunny embossed book

‘Moon Goddess’ Lyra

  • Peach-pink & flowered, formal kimono and stone necklace
  • Marumage hairstyle
  • Red, white & gold, moon bunny embossed book

 


 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

The Reunion of Sun and Moon
Read about ‘Moon Princess’ Celeste

One autumn, while Celeste was on the moon for her annual mooncake tasting, she noticed in the distance the silhouette of a grand palace.

“What is that?” asked Celeste with her mouth full of cherry mooncake.

A nearby bunny looked up from her clipboard, on which she was marking Celeste’s preferences. “That’s where the Moon Queen lives,” she said. “She rules over us all because she loves us.”

“No!” cried another bunny. “She’s the Moon Empress. She’s here because she drank a potion that made her fly up to the moon and now she’s stuck here.”

“She chose to be here,” said a third bunny. “She’s a Moon Goddess. She used to be in love with the Sun God, but he broke her heart. She chose to become the Moon Goddess so she would be on the other side of the world from him.”

“Is she a bunny?” asked Celeste.

“No. She’s like you,” said the bunny. “Except her name is Lyra, and she has antlers, and she’s always sad.”

Celeste brushed the crumbs from her hands and set off to the palace, leaving the bunnies to their bickering.

Lyra answered the door herself. She narrowed her eyes at Celeste.

“Stand up straight,” she ordered.

Celeste stood up straight and cleared her throat. “I thought you might like some cherry mooncakes. They’re the bunnies’ newest flavor.“

“No, thank you,” said Lyra. “The Autumn Festival is for family. I am all alone.”

“Why do you live on the moon alone?” asked Celeste.

“The man I love lives on the sun,” said the Empress. “He stopped the sun in the sky so he could look at me all day and all night. So the sun shone all the time on one place, and the rest of the world was cold and dark.”

“That’s bad,” whispered Celeste.

“So my people banished me to the moon, so that the man I love would have to chase the moon all day and all night.”

“The Autumn Festival is for family and moon-watching,” said Celeste. “The man you love should be here on the moon with you.”

The Empress’ eyes brightened, and for the first time, she did not look sad. “But how would he get here?”

Celeste whistled and a comet flew by. She grabbed its tail and flew off the moon and all the way to the sun, where she found a man napping all alone in a sun-apple orchard.

“Are you the man who chases the moon?” asked Celeste, tapping at the man’s forehead.

“Yes,” grumbled the man.

“You’re late for the Autumn Festival,” said Celeste. She climbed a tree and tossed down a bunch of sun apples. “Bring these. We already have mooncakes.”

“Mooncakes? We’re going to the moon?” The grumpy man’s voice softened as he gathered the sun apples.

“Come on.” Celeste held out her hand and the man grabbed it, and when the comet swung around again they rode it all the way back to the moon palace. All together, they celebrated the Autumn Festival with cherry mooncakes and sun apples and hugs.


Read Lyra’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection


WALLPAPERS

‘Moon Empress’ Lyra

Lyra’s Book

‘Moon Queen’ Lyra

Lyra’s Book

‘Moon Goddess’ Lyra

Lyra’s Book

Get Spooky with the Epic ‘Scarecrow’ Baptiste!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Sep 27, 2017

The King of the Forest has called upon the wise Scarecrow for help. Read on for more information on Vainglory’s spookiest Halloween skin yet!

 


MODEL & EFFECTS CHANGES

  • Straw-stuffed, burlap & twine body with super creepy grin
  • Farmer’s scythe
  • All-new scarecrow costume
  • Bad Mojo vials are now glowing pumpkins
  • Fearsome Shades now have scary pumpkin heads!


 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

The True Conspiracy

Read Part I: The Theft of the Wizard’s Brew

In a grand green courtyard at the center of the City of Emeralds, the Scarecrow King played croquet with the blade of a scythe. His advisor, a little woman of striking beauty, read off that day’s conspiracies.

“The Stargazers have decreed that the world is flat, and the stars are pinpricks in a giant black curtain,” she said.

“Ridiculous,” mused the scarecrow as the blade smacked a ball through a hoop. “You may proclaim that one false.”

The advisor drew an “F” next to the Stargazer’s conspiracy on her tablet. “The Magicians have decreed that the Witch did nothing wrong, and was executed without due process,” she continued. “They have used their magic to turn the minions against the new Queen of the West.”

The scarecrow shook his head, so that his pin-and-needle brain tinkled. “The Magicians forget the Witch’s reign of terror, but I do not. She once called upon her minions to tear me to pieces, and I had to be stitched back together again. The Magicians will be stopped.”

The advisor scribbled this note next to the Magician’s conspiracy, then said, “The Felinologists have decreed that the King of the Forest has traveled to the City of Emeralds.”

The scarecrow paused his play. “The King of the Forest is my friend. This conspiracy may be true. Send for the Felinologists and have the king brought to me at once.”

The little woman scuttled away and soon returned with the King of the Forest, his mane still fairy-braided with ribbons, his ears twitching with fright at every sound.

“My old friend,” said the scarecrow, petting the lion’s nose. “It has been years since we last met.“

“Your people did not believe me when I told them who I am,” said the lion.

“My people lived for a generation under the Wizard, who forced everyone to wear green-glassed spectacles so they would believe that they lived in a city of emeralds,” said the Scarecrow. “I removed their spectacles and showed them that their city is like any other, and so they made me their king. Now they believe nothing, and my duty as the wisest in the land is to proclaim their conspiracies true or false.”

“Your people are wise for crowning you. The animals of the forest were unwise to choose me as their king, for without the wizard’s brew I am a coward, and the fairies drank my entire supply. Tell me that within the wizard’s old quarters there is some of that brew left over!”

The scarecrow knew that, even if there were some drops left of the wizard’s brew, it was a temporary solution to the lion’s lifelong problem. So he devised a wise plan that would solve two problems in one.

“There is a fountain of wizard’s brew in the West,” the scarecrow lied, pulling the ribbons from the lion’s mane. “Let us go together to visit our friend, the Queen of the West, and collect that brew for you.”

And so the pair set off toward the West.


Read Baptiste’s canon lore:

The Complete Collection


WALLPAPERS

Vainglory Lore: Churnwalker

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Sep 21, 2017

Part One

 

Tap to reveal story

Excerpt from the recovered letters of Martim Walker

For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:

I have emerged from within the Churn-infested volcano at the center of Shichi Shima Shotou, which we call the Seven Islands, thanks to the environmentally sealed suit that I commissioned with a considerable amount of my own wealth and in utmost secrecy. I am unharmed but for bumps and bruises and full of never-before-reported information. I have not yet stopped to rest, as my mind races with the magnanimity of what I’ve witnessed.

I traveled alone into that heart of that darkness, and I am unashamed to admit that I was terrified. Ashen, slow-moving magma cooled into igneous pathways that I followed, spiraling down wherever I could find sure footing. I soon found evidence of life: Silversword plants and green-red moss struck out from the porous rock faces with threatening beauty. The ground thickened with shrubs and ferns and then various jungle trees which grew to monstrous size the further into the volcano I ventured.

All was silent while the Churn took notice of me, stalking me like a predator, sniffing at my fear. And then, it began to speak. I heard its whispers in the small hairs on my neck, uttering a language I have never heard. When I spun to see what whispered, I saw nothing. Soon it was inside my mind, replacing my own language, so that my thoughts spooled out in these strange syllables. “Ebbet ikro ido?” it demanded, and somehow I knew to respond, aloud, with my own name.

Behind the giant leaves, I observed enormous scorpions and beetles that skittered, without sound, away from the dim light. Growth burst from every available finger-width of rich soil, vines and leaves and slithering things fighting for space, twisting around one another. A bright red frog eyed me from its perch on a tall branch; a snail wide as a dinner plate made its slow way up a thorny tree; pigeons the size of eagles sailed overhead. I snapped a flower twice the size of my head from its stalk and the flower struggled in my grip; I watched it grow a new stem that plowed deep into the volcanic soil by my feet with haughty indignance, and the whisper said, “Astek givav ikri edu buvad bebu…”

I might have wandered forever in the Churn, lost in its endless wonders, if not for the storm. As I approached the heart of the volcano, the mist grew thicker and swirled with igneous dust. I pushed forward even when I could not see, drawn to the whispers which grew louder and more insistent with every step, until the ground beneath my feet trembled. I lost my footing and was tossed away by the storm. My arms flailed in a panic; I grasped a thick palm branch, but I was flung away again by the strong wind.

In that Churnstorm I experienced a most strange phenomenon: I saw visions of myself reflected in the fog and dust all around me. I call them visions, for they could not have been me, but they were solid as I. So disturbing were these visions that I couldn’t bear to not embody them; in this one thought I felt in my body a painful buckling, a sensation like all of my bones breaking, folding in on themselves and then unfolding again into another of the visions.

When the hurricane began to sweep me again deeper into the volcano, I willed myself to be another vision of myself, and traveled to it in the same fashion. In this way, trespassing from vision to vision, I managed to make my way toward the visible sky. As my men pulled me by the arms to safety, I heard the whisper insist, “Ikro vli ve shavod.” I am told that I responded, “Oeda vli stishad!” I do not remember this, nor do I have any understanding of this phrase.

My terrified fellow Explorers have surmised that this would be my last — indeed any human’s last — excursion of its kind. This belies nothing but an unforgivable lack of imagination. I have already begun sketching out a pulley system to be worn upon the shoulders of my sealed suit, through which would crank lengths of chain and hooks, to secure me into the ground or onto sturdy plant life for encounters with future Churnstorms. The scientific implications of Churn study cannot now be denied.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker


Part Two

 

Tap to reveal story
Excerpt from the recovered letters of Martim Walker

For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:

How strange it is to emerge into the Calm after weeks or months — time does not track the same in The Churn and without my crew I have no way of knowing for how long I have remained inside — and be surrounded again by the inane bustling of villages and cities, with their fleeting governments and their fragile people so concerned with trivialities. My vision-jumps, which I call “Trespassing,” allow me to travel quickly across Churn-infected land. On occasion I surface in a small pocket of Calm inside which thrives an insulated population with no knowledge of the outside world. What a fright I must seem, in my Churn suit and pulley system, speaking no language they know! I imagine they have drummed up terrifying stories of warning about me for their children.

I received your letter in Crescent City denying future stipends and commanding me home due to expired treaties in the Eventides and what I believe is unwarranted concern for my physical well-being. Indeed, Churnstorms are stronger the closer one comes to the wells, but I make good use of my ingenious chain and pulley system, not only for its grounding effect but for the pacification of violent Churnbeasts. Oftimes, a deep hooking and a masterly shake of the chain makes those overgrown animals whimper like lap puppies.

Your concern for my mental state could be valid — I do hear the whispers whenever the Churn is near. Perhaps it has taken on me a vengeance for my trespassing. It whispers to me things about myself which I do not know, things of which I had no conception until I delved into this great solitude. It has created a hollow core in me, in which the whisper loudly echoes — or perhaps the space that my former fears occupied has been filled by this greater wisdom.

After a night deep in the spirits with the local Islanders, I have carried onward into Les Côtes D’Olives despite your concerns. When I have sent to you my charts and findings, I am certain all will be forgiven.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker

~

Excerpt from the recovered letters of Martim Walker

For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:

Enclosed you shall find the completed charts of the wells of power on two continents, through the overrun Gythian provinces of Aullerium and Renaia; under the ocean surrounding Taizen Gate; along Les Côtes D’Olives, where the Churn boils the sea and the coral reefs grow wild and carnivorous; over the Seven Islands and Horangee-go’t, the Tiger Peninsula; over the Ancient Wall and all through the Lost Continent; and even deep into the uncrossable desert of The Shimmer. I am sure you will see, for you must see, the importance of this work and of your continued patronage.

I have sent these despite the discovery that the guild has disowned me and, by association, my family, leaving them penniless and my children without professions. Is it true that some believe I am dead, and that my published work has been discarded and banned in Gythia? I can but hope that these are vicious rumors; just in case, I have donated my private collection to the House of Insight in the Glass City to ensure its preservation.

In my weeks there, I allowed myself to be examined by their physicians. In their mirrors I saw myself at last with my suit removed and found that my flesh had changed. My suit was not as sealed from the elements as I thought. This malfunction has proved correct my inoculation hypothesis. The marvelous scientists of The Shimmer concur.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker


Part Three

 

Tap to reveal story
Excerpt from the recovered journal of Martim Walker

The new Guildmaster has, after consideration of my work, refused to publish it, declaring me an obsessed madman. Stida evibez! I have also intercepted letters from my wife about our children, now grown. I recorded my departure from my little children only a few seasons past, but time flows at a different pace in the Churn. I reconciled both lunar and solar calendars and the star charts, and I have determined that I left my country some ninety years ago. I should be long dead, yet I thrive. I must make detailed notes of this anomaly, even though the Cartographers have abandoned me. I will cast no more pearls before the swine of Gythia.

The speech of my birth no longer lives on my tongue; ida gekra ivi beu idat daxdaz. Only by hand may I communicate in Gythian now, and only with great concentration. Always, too, the whisper beckons me home.

I have learned to communicate with Churnbeasts using the Churn language… hush now, bast! Ikra dabdaz vist… though they are as likely to be commanded as the Summer Queen of Lionne, long may the stubborn old girl reign. It is to her I shall send my latest work. I have detected a well of power buried deep within the mountain from which might be siphoned energy to empower the queen’s armies. It will not be long before the greedy mage queens pacify the Eventides, and then they shall turn their eyes to the ever-weakening Gythian empire. Her triumph shall be my revenge.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker

~

And now it is rumored that I never lived at all! Ide velshibe ebbat ide vli gekre. No matter; ide vl’oede idam bastad. While the Cartographers politicked in comfort, it was I, only I, who explored the wild world and mapped the unmappable. Ide f’ijbre jid idam, one way or the other, for the Churn’s power rises through the soil, lurking beneath us all. Ikri ust edu beu idum; it is life, bequeathed to us in teaspoon sips until we step past the barrier of fear and immerse ourselves in that… hehva… ov hehva… that darkness. When we allow that power to course through our veins, when our hearts align with that dark heart of the world’s true life source, then we are free to guzzle from life’s overflowing river. No more are we slaves to society’s petty constructs of fear. Within the Churn there is no today and no… no jid’hok, and so there is no fear of death. Indeed when death does come for me, my corpse will rot smiling, feeling my life’s work well done.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker

~

What is the Churn but another… givav… what is the word in Gythian? …upon which I am the only man, save perhaps he who whispers to me there? I surfaced into the Calm this morning with my charts and diaries bundled for delivery and hiked to the nearest port having spoken and heard nothing but the Churn language for so long – buvo exi stex? – that it took some hours for my mind to decipher… world, that is the word! Another world upon which I am the only man. I have come to realize that life, as they think of it in the Calm, is… what is the word? Ve dlibu… a dream, and the creatures within that dream worthless, one misstep from the Netherworld; it is no cruelty that Churnbeasts kill creatures of the Calm with impunity, for to Churn creatures, a thing that dies with ease is not worth the air it breathes.

I must make these notes before I submerge again, for I forget more and more the language of my birth; I hear the Churn whispering in and out of the Calm now. The whisper is my only companion, or perhaps ikri ust beu idam; in either instance there is only one living world for me now. For I am the Churn, and the Churn is mine, and I will not stop my work, never. Ikri idat, e voda vl’ebbut.

All secrets are worth knowing,
Martim Walker

~

So I am a monster they say, the world over, and perhaps ide ikre kiovebraka, for my name fades even from my own memory, along with my wife’s voice, the laughter of my son, the taste of my mother’s baked clams and crusty bread. Now I am a warning, in a thousand languages, to naughty children: Never, no never, wander beyond the Calm, for The Churnwalker lurks within…

I hear pieces of news, out of order and meaningless: a civil war in Gythia, the discovery of crystal mines on Tiger Peninsula, a technological revolution in the House of Insight, a young Storm Queen building her capital city atop the buried well of power on Mont Lille. Perhaps, when the time is right, I shall return to help topple the empire that discarded my life’s work, destroyed my name, and ruined my family. Ikra ov Churnwalker. If it is a monster they want, then ikri v’ahskad f’ave.

Edu drovliz ikre skiv gekradaz,
The Churnwalker


ALTERNATE FATES

‘Clownwalker’

Welcome to the Party!

 

Coming Soon! The Special Edition ‘Bakuto’ Phinn!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Sep 07, 2017

A creature from the sea destroyed Taizen Gate – just when the new gambling boss thought he had it made. Now you can play the Special Edition ‘Bakuto’ Phinn and lay waste to the Halcyon Fold!

 


MODEL CHANGES

  • Nuclear reptilian monster from the sea!
  • Glowing blue serrated spikes
  • Sharp horns
  • Golden hook and chain
  • Crimson leg armor and rope belt
  • Susie is now a frightened little moth!

EFFECTS & ANIMATION CHANGES

  • Charges up and creates an atomic pulse during Polite Company
  • Gathers up energy & roars with atomic breath for Quibble
  • Brand new sound effects
  • Aggressive new animations adapted to his new monster model!
  • Bats at and eats poor Susie during withdrawal


 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

The Path of the Monster

Read Part I: The Gambler

At the back of a bustling tea room, a hostess in a pink kimono giggled as she chose a card from a fanned-out deck in the gambling boss’ hand. “Put it back, but don’t let me see it,” he demanded, leaning in close.

In the front, dice rattled in cups, cards shuffled and coins changed hands. The blind Grangor stood at the sliding paper door that separated the front room from the back, his arms crossed. Serene hostesses in matching pink kimonos glided through the tea house. “Irasshaimase,” they called, guiding patrons to their reserved gambling tables.

The Grangor sniffed. “Something isn’t right,” he muttered.

“Is this your card?” murmured the gambler to the woman as he flicked a card out of the deck.

“No,” said the woman, her eyes wide and disappointed.

“Something is coming.” The Grangor aimed one ear out the window toward the bay. The floor trembled, then settled. Somewhere outside, glass broke. A terrified moth flew in the window and hid in the Grangor’s fur.

“Relax. We’re in the rowdiest neighborhood in Taizen Gate. Glass tends to break here,” said the gambler. He set down the deck, drifted his fingertips behind the woman’s ear, and produced a card from her hair. “Is this your card?”

And then the building fell apart around them.

***

On a pile of rubble still crackling with atomic energy, the gambler sat glugging from his flask. The blind Grangor sniffed the air, his ears twitching, the fur on his back standing up.

“What was that?” demanded the Grangor.

The Gambler smacked his lips. “A monster.”

“I could hear that much. And smell.”

“Some kind of reptile. It had horns and glowing blue spikes. And it breathed… something blue and sparking.”

“That isn’t natural.”

“Nothing from Boiling Bay is natural.”

In the city behind them, the monster stomped its way through Taizen Gate. Below them, the Churn fog roiled along Boiling Bay, enveloping the sparking, crumbled old amusement park rides. The tea houses where the gambler had set up his operations were nothing but paper and burnt bamboo. Poker cards fluttered through the air and burnt dice scattered where he’d planted the now-charred Churn orchids and cherry trees. The monster’s roar echoed over the distance as his golden hook caught and dragged down airships. The city was alight with atomic pulses and sparks.

“Well then,” said the Grangor, “let’s go.”

“Back to our worthless back room poker games in the Undersprawl, then,” sighed the gambler, capping his flask with his teeth.

“I didn’t team up with you, come all the way here, establish my good name and then ruin it all humiliating Second Boss just to go back to the Undersprawl.” The Grangor gave his hindquarters a good scratch and began making his careful way down the ruins of the tea house.

“That thing is flattening Taizen Gate right now, old friend. You need to know when to give up.”

“He isn’t a thing,” called the Grangor. “He’s a weapon. I’m going to find out who he works for.”

“What will you do?” asked the mystified gambler. “Ask him for the name of his employer?”

“First, I’m going to find out what he isn’t destroying. Then I’m going to get a monster head for my trophy room.”

The gambler rubbed his temples with thumb and forefinger, then followed the Grangor into the path of the monster.


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Check out the Epic ‘Horus’ Idris!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Sep 01, 2017

The Horus King believes that Ra is his people’s one hope against the onslaught of the Churn, but Ra’s temple has disappeared. Read on to discover the alternate fate of ‘Horus’ Idris, the pharaoh. 


MODEL & EFFECTS CHANGES

  • Pharaoh’s headdress with linked crest feathers
  • Eagle talons and bladed feathers on boots and gauntlets
  • Metal tech face mask
  • Golden spear
  • Shendyt skirt, obsidian jeweled belt and chest piece
  • Winged and jeweled chakram

 


 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

The Lost Temple of Ra

After seven nights on camelback, the Horus King of the Great House found nothing at the site of the Temple of Ra but endless green, pink and blue sand dunes whirling in the wind. The disciples who had accompanied him consulted the star charts, but they were not lost. Still, the temple was nowhere to be found.

“The temple has been lifted from the world,” surmised a disciple.

“The temple has been made invisible,” argued another.

“Ra has abandoned us,” wailed another. “Now the Churn will end us all!”

The disciples gathered in a circle and sang hymns. They consulted the old scrolls. They hypnotized one another and beseeched Ra to speak through their mouths. They argued until dawn, but the temple remained lost.

The Horus King watched without speaking, and so only he noticed the boy acolyte who, bored by the proceedings, dug in the sand and found the crystal jewel. The jewel grew and grew as the boy dug, widening from its sharp point.

“Behold,” the king announced to the disciples, “the tip of an obelisk.”

“The Temple of Ra is buried,” gasped a disciple.

“This is why the Glass City has suffered,” surmised another. “Ra is trapped beneath the sands.”

“Then we must free him,” said the Horus King. “Dig to the entrance.”

For many days, the Disciples of Ra and the Horus King dug until a door to the Temple was found and cleared.

“Stay here, and do not allow the sands to bury the temple while I am inside,” said the Horus King.

“Beware the guardian, your majesty,” warned the boy acolyte.

The Horus King turned his impersonal glowing eyes onto the boy and nodded before lifting his torch and entering the dark temple alone.


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Coming Soon: the Rare ‘Vaquero’ Ringo!

  • Vainglory
  • |
  • Aug 29, 2017

The famous Rowdy Ringo is known through the Wild West for tricky dice and robbery. Somehow, he never gets caught! Keep reading for more information about ‘Vaquero’ Ringo.

 


MODEL CHANGES

  • All new sombrero!
  • Charro suit pants with leather chaps and Grangor belt buckle
  • Black and gold patterned poncho
  • .50 caliber rimfire revolver
  • Woven wicker jug


 

ALTERNATE FATE LORE

The Hornswoggle

One late autumn, Rowdy Ringo surfaced in town after years away. We’d figured him for dead, limb removal injuries being the fatal kind, and those who hoped he was alive were sure he’d never show his face again. But he wandered into the tavern one day just as casual as you please, what he’d lost hidden up under his poncho, winking at the ladies like he wasn’t three-quarters of a man.

Took about thirty seconds for Rowdy Ringo to have three different gun barrels against his head.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, boys,” said Ringo, his one hand up nice and peaceful. “Your bullets are going to go straight through my skull and catch one another. Wouldn’t want you upstanding gentlemen to die over a dumb mistake like that.”

“Lemme take the shot,” whined Bookie Barry. “This man walked out on a hundred-gold debt.”

“I’m a vaquero now. Only thing I hustle are cattle,” said Ringo. “I’ll set you up with one of my good dairy cows; should be worth a hundred plus interest.”

“I should get ‘im,” said the Lawman Larry. “He’s been jailed for robbery three times and his friends always broke him out!”

“I never did stand trial in front of a jury of my peers,” said Ringo.

“Justice is mine, says me,” cried Reverend Ronald. “This man has committed the sin of drunkenness and, most important, he ran off with my daughter!”

“I don’t drink anymore. This is just agave juice,” said Ringo. He wiggled his elbow and his wicker jug sloshed. “And to be fair, reverend, your daughter ran off with me.”

For a few awkward seconds the gunmen eyed one another, then the bookie holstered his weapon. “I always wanted a cow,” he said.

“Barry’s a smart man,” said Ringo. “Anyone else want to be smart like him?”

“No,” said Lawman Larry.

“No,” said Reverend Ronald.

“Let’s be fair, then. Barry, you got a coin over there?”

“I ain’t giving you no –”

“No, Barry, I don’t want your coin. Focus, now, or you’re gonna make one of these two trigger fingers nervous. You got a coin?”

“Yeah I gotta coin,” said Barry, digging in his pockets.

“Alright now, here’s what you do: you flip that coin and catch it. If it lands heads-up, the lawman gets to shoot me. If it lands tails-up, the reverend gets the honor. That sound fair?”

The lawman and the reverend shifted their weight from foot to foot. “Feels like a hornswoggling,” muttered Larry.

“Nothing’s more fair than a coin flip,” urged Ringo.

“Alright,” said Larry.

“No funny business,” said Ronald.

All eyes turned to Barry’s shiny coin as it flipped through the air, so no one saw Ringo draw his .50 caliber rimfire revolver. They only heard the shots – BAM-BAM! and the sound of the lawman crumpling to the ground. The bookie scrambled for his gun while the gold coin hit the floor, a smoking hole through its center.

“Don’t be doing that,” said Ringo, pointing his weapon at the bookie.

Barry held up both hands with a manly pout. “But I want a cow,” he muttered.

“You’ll get your cow. I am a gentleman of my word,” said Ringo.

Barry smiled and backed off, mumbling something about cheese.

“Now you and I,” said Ringo, aiming at the reverend, “we are gonna come to an understanding. You’re gonna put your gun away and you’re gonna forgive your daughter for running off.”

“Hi Daddy!” A girl behind the bar waved with one hand as she scooped coins out of the cash register with the other. No one had seen her come in, what with the hullabaloo.

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight if I don’t make a little peace here,” said Ringo, his aim true. “So go on; put that away and say you forgive her.”

Reverend Ronald shoved his piece back in its holster and grimaced at the sack full of cash jingling over his daughter’s shoulder.

“Evil setup you have going,” the reverend grumbled. “But of course I forgive her.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” The girl gave her father a peck on the cheek on her way out of the tavern. Ringo followed close behind, keeping his revolver leveled on the reverend.

“Isn’t this nice? All this familial tranquility. It warms my heart.” Ringo tipped his sombrero with the muzzle of his revolver and disappeared out the door.

The bookie stepped over the bleeding lawman and stuck his head out the door, purple with rage. “I want my cow, Ringo!” he yelled after the horses galloping away.


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