Dota 2 lore meet the heroes invokergame

Meet the Heroes? : DotA2

dota 2 lore meet the heroes invokergame

It was an intense battle at the world's premier DOTA2 event, where teams cosplaying as Windranger, heroes that were being drafted showed up on the . The stage was now set for the 16 teams to meet in the group stages with .. place on his signature Invoker. Game Two was more of the same except it. well now i can play seriously (since mmr is visible and i know what type of players i meet) so ill steadily reach 5k:) my invoker game i was the person on my team with the most farm, but i . On the dota 2 blog about how they do matching it is explained what really thx for sharing ur cool story with us bro. hair-restore.info weekly hair-restore.info .com/dota-2/forum/dotafire-support/they-are-called-heroes-not-champions -2/forum/matchmaking/join-a-team-or-group-of-players-meet-new-players

The boy grew, and every summer he'd return to his family's field, often setting out into the bush seeking to reclaim that first thrill of facing death in the form of jaws or a fatal fall. The years went on, but his fire only grew stronger. He studied the overgrowth, plunging deeper with each expedition, until finally he found his way to the caves at the heart of hostility.

They say the Rider, on the eve of a scorching summer night, had nothing but a rope, a bottle of liquid courage and a burning determination to feel the skies once more, when he plunged inside Beastmaster Karroch was born a child of the stocks.

His mother died in childbirth; his father, a farrier for the Last King of Slom, was trampled to death when he was five. Afterward Karroch was indentured to the king's menagerie, where he grew up among all the beasts of the royal court: When the lad was seven, an explorer brought in a beast like none before seen. Dragged before the King in chains, the beast spoke, though its mouth moved not. The King only laughed and ordered the beast perform for his amusement; and when it refused, struck it with the Mad Scepter and ordered it dragged to the stocks.

Over the coming months, the boy Karroch sneaked food and medicinal draughts to the wounded creature, but only managed to slow its deterioration. Wordlessly, the beast spoke to the boy, and over time their bond strengthened until the boy found he could hold up his end of a conversation. He could, in fact, speak now to all the creatures of the King's menagerie. On the night the beast died, a rage came over the boy. He incited the animals of the court to rebel and threw open their cages to set them amok on the palace grounds.

The Last King was mauled in the mayhem. In the chaos, one regal stag bowed to the boy who had freed him; and with Beastmaster astride him, leapt the high walls of the estate, and escaped. Now a man, Karroch the Beastmaster has not lost his ability to converse with wild creatures. He has grown into a warrior at one with nature's savagery. Bloodseeker Strygwyr the Bloodseeker is a ritually sanctioned hunter, Hound of the Flayed Twins, sent down from the mist-shrouded peaks of Xhacatocatl in search of blood.

The Flayed Ones require oceanic amounts of blood to keep them sated and placated, and would soon drain their mountain empire of its populace if the priests of the high plateaus did not appease them. Strygwyr therefore goes out in search of carnage. The vital energy of any blood he lets, flows immediately to the Twins through the sacred markings on his weapons and armor.

Over the years, he has come to embody the energy of a vicious hound; in battle he is savage as a jackal. Beneath the Mask of the Bloodseeker, in the rush of bloody quenching, it is said that you can sometime see the features of the Flayers taking direct possession of their Hound.

Bounty Hunter When the hunted tell tales of Gondar the Bounty Hunter, none are sure of which are true. In whispered tones they say he was abandoned as a kit, learning his skill in tracking as a matter of simple survival. Others hear he was an orphan of war, taken in by the great Soruq the Hunter to learn the master's skill with a blade as they plumbed the dark forests for big game. Still others believe he was a lowly street urchin raised among a guild of cutpurses and thieves, trained in the arts of stealth and misdirection.

Around campfires in the wild countryside his quarry speaks the rumors of Gondar's work, growing ever more fearful: That it was he who infiltrated the rebel camps at Highseat, finally bringing the legendary thief White Cape to be judged for his crimes. And that it was he who ended the career of Soruq the Hunter, condemned as a criminal for killing the Prince's prized hellkite.

The tales of Gondar's incredible skill stretch on, with each daring feat more unbelievable than the last, each target more elusive. For the right price, the hunted know, anyone can be found. For the right price, even the mightiest may find fear in the shadows. Brewmaster Deep in the Wailing Mountains, in a valley beneath the Ruined City, the ancient Order of the Oyo has for centuries practiced its rites of holy reverie, communing with the spirit realm in grand festivals of drink. Born to a mother's flesh by a Celestial father, the youth known as Mangix was the first to grow up with the talents of both lineages.

He trained with the greatest aesthetes of the Order, eventually earning, through diligent drunkenness, the right to challenge for the title of Brewmaster, that appellation most honored among the contemplative malt-brewing sect. As much drinking competition as mortal combat, Mangix for nine days drank and fought the elder master. For nine nights they stumbled and whirled, chugged and struck, until at last the elder warrior collapsed into a drunken stupor, and a new Brewmaster was named.

Now the new, young Brewmaster calls upon the strength of his Oyo forebears to speed his staff. When using magic, it is to his spirit ancestors that he turns. Like all Brewmasters before him, he was sent out from his people with a single mission. He wanders the land, striving toward enlightenment through drink, searching for the answer to the ancient spiritual schism. Hoping to think the single thought that will unite the spirit and physical planes again. Bristleback Never one to turn his back on a fight, Rigwarl was known for battling the biggest, meanest scrappers he could get his hands on.

Christened Bristleback by the drunken crowds, he waded into backroom brawls in every road tavern between Slom and Elze, until his exploits finally caught the eye of a barkeep in need of an enforcer.

For a bit of brew, Bristleback was hired to collect tabs, keep the peace, and break the occasional leg or two or five, in the case of one unfortunate web-hund.

After indulging in a night of merriment during which bodily harm was meted out in equal parts upon both delinquent patrons and his own liver, Bristleback finally met his match. What followed was a fight for the ages. A dozen fighters jumped in. No stool was left unbroken, and in the end, the impossible happened: Over the weeks that followed, Bristleback's wounds healed, and his quills grew back; but an enforcer's honor can be a prickly thing.

He paid the tab from his own coin, vowing to track down this northerner and extract redemption. And then he did something he'd never done before: A smile peeled back from his teeth as he flexed his quills. Turning his back to a fight might be just the thing. Broodmother For centuries, Black Arachnia the Broodmother lurked in the dark lava tubes beneath the smoldering caldera of Mount Pyrotheos, raising millions of spiderlings in safety before sending them to find prey in the wide world above.

In a later age, the Vizier of Greed, Ptholopthales, erected his lodestone ziggurat on the slopes of the dead volcano, knowing that any looters who sought his magnetic wealth must survive the spider-haunted passages. After millennia of maternal peace, Black Arachnia found herself beset by a steady trickle of furfeet and cutpurses, bold knights and noble youths—all of them delicious, certainly, and yet tending to create a less than nurturing environment for her innocent offspring.

Tiring of the intrusions, she paid a visit to Ptholopthales; and when he proved unwilling to discuss a compromise, she wrapped the Vizier in silk and set him aside to be the centerpiece of a special birthday feast.

Unfortunately, the absence of the Magnetic Ziggurat's master merely emboldened a new generation of intruders. When one of her newborns was trodden underfoot by a clumsy adventurer, she reached the end of her silken rope. Broodmother headed for the surface, declaring her intent to rid the world of each and every possible invader, down to the last Hero if necessary, until she could ensure her nursery might once more be a safe and wholesome environment for her precious spiderspawn.

Centaur Warrunner It's said that a centaur's road is paved with the corpses of the fallen. For the one called Warrunner, it has been a long road indeed. To outsiders, the four-legged clans of Druud are often mistaken for simple, brutish creatures. Their language has no written form; their culture lacks pictographic traditions, structured music, formalized religion.

For centaurs, combat is the perfect articulation of thought, the highest expression of self. If killing is an art among centaurs, then Bradwarden the Warrunner is their greatest artist. He rose to dominance on the proving grounds of Omexe, an ancient arena where centaur clans have for millennia gathered to perform their gladiatorial rites. As his fame spread, spectators came from far and wide to see the great centaur in action.

Always the first to step into the arena, and the last to leave, he composes a masterpiece in each guttering spray, each thrust of blood-slickened blade-length. It is the poetry of blood on steel, flung in complex patterns across the pale sands of the killing floor. Warrunner defeated warrior after warrior, until the arena boomed with the cheering of his name, and he found himself alone, the uncontested champion of his kind.

The great belt of Omexe was bestowed, wrapped around his broad torso, but in his victory, the death-artist found only emptiness. For what is a warrior without a challenge?

dota 2 lore meet the heroes invokergame

The great centaur galloped out of Omexe that day with a new goal. To his people, Warrunner is the greatest warrior to ever step into the arena. Now he has set out to prove he is the greatest fighter who has ever lived.

Chaos Knight The veteran of countless battles on a thousand worlds, Chaos Knight hails from a far upstream plane where the fundamental laws of the universe have found sentient expression.

Of all the ancient Fundamentals, he is the oldest and most tireless, endlessly searching out a being he knows only as "The Light. Now Chaos Knight shifts from plane to plane, always on the hunt to extinguish the Light wherever he finds it. A thousand times he has snuffed out the source, and always he slides into another plane to continue his search anew. Upon his steed Armageddon he rides, wading into battle with maniacal frenzy, drawing strength from the disorder of the universe.

A physical manifestation of chaos itself, in times of need he calls upon other versions of himself from other planes, and together these dark horsemen ride into battle, as unstoppable as any force of nature.

Only when the last Light of the world is scoured from existence will the search be ended. Where rides the Chaos Knight, death soon follows. Chen Born in the godless Hazhadal Barrens, Chen came of age among the outlaw tribes who eked out an existence in the shimmering heat of the desert.

Using an ancient form of animal enthrallment, Chen's people husbanded the hardy desert locuthi, a stunted species of burrowing dragon that melted desert sands into tubes of glass where twice-a-year rains collected. Always on the edge of starvation and thirst, fighting amongst their neighbors and each other, Chen's clan made the mistake, one fateful day, of ambushing the wrong caravan.

In the vicious battle that followed, Chen's clan was outmatched. The armored Knights of the Fold made short work of the enthralled locuthi, who attacked and died in waves. With their dragons dead, the tribesmen followed. Chen struggled, and slashed, and clawed, and perished—or would have.

Defeated, on his knees, he faced his execution with humility, offering his neck to the blade. Moved by Chen's obvious courage, the executioner halted his sword. Instead of the blade, Chen was given a choice: Chen took to the faith with a ferocity. He joined the Fold and earned his armor one bloody conversion at a time. Now, with the fanaticism of a convert, and with his powers of animal enthrallment at their peak, he seeks out unbelievers and introduces them to their final reward.

Clinkz At the base of the Bleeding Hills stretches a thousand-league wood, a place called The Hoven, where black pools gather the tarry blood of the uplands, and the king-mage Sutherex sits in benevolent rule. Once a sworn protector of the Hoven lands, Clinkz earned a reputation for his skill with a bow.

In the three-hundredth year of the king-mage, the demon Maraxiform rose from sixth hell to lay claim to the forest. In response, the king-mage decreed an unbreakable spell: Unaware of the spell, Clinkz waded into battle, defending his lands against the demon's fiery onslaught.

Clinkz drove Maraxiform back to the gates of sixth-hell itself, where on that fiery threshold the two locked in a mortal conflict. Grievously wounded, the demon let out a blast of hellfire as Clinkz loosed his final arrow. The arrow struck the demon true as hellfire poured out across the land, lighting the black pools and burning Clinkz alive at the instant of the demon's death.

Thus, the mage's spell took effect at the very moment of the archer's conflagration, preserving him in this unholy state, leaving him a being of bones and rage, caught in the very act of dying, carrying hell's breath with him on his journey into eternity. Clockwerk Rattletrap descends from the same far-flung kindred as Sniper and Tinker, and like many of the Keen Folk, has offset his diminutive stature through the application of gadgetry and wit.

The son of the son of a clockmaker, Rattletrap was many years apprenticed to that trade before war rode down from the mountains and swept the plains villages free of such innocent vocations. It is a poor tradesman who blames his tools, and Rattletrap was never one to make excuses. After burying his father among the ruins of their village, he set about to transform himself into the greatest tool of warfare that any world had ever seen.

He vowed to never again be caught unprepared, instead using his talents to assemble a suit of powered Clockwerk armor to make the knights of other lands look like tin cans by comparison.

Now Rattletrap is alive with devices, a small but deadly warrior whose skills at ambush and destruction have risen to near-automated levels of efficiency. An artisan of death, his mechanizations make short work of the unwary, heralding a new dawn in this age of warfare. What time is it? Crystal Maiden Born in a temperate realm, raised with her fiery older sister Lina, Rylai the Crystal Maiden soon found that her innate elemental affinity to ice created trouble for all those around her.

Wellsprings and mountain rivers froze in moments if she stopped to rest nearby; ripening crops were bitten by frost, and fruiting orchards turned to mazes of ice and came crashing down, spoiled. When their exasperated parents packed Lina off to the equator, Rylai found herself banished to the cold northern realm of Icewrack, where she was taken in by an Ice Wizard who had carved himself a hermitage at the crown of the Blueheart Glacier. After long study, the wizard pronounced her ready for solitary practice and left her to take his place, descending into the glacier to hibernate for a thousand years.

Her mastery of the Frozen Arts has only deepened since that time, and now her skills are unmatched. Dark Seer Fast when he needs to be, and a cunning strategist, Ish'Kafel the Dark Seer requires no edged weapons to vanquish his enemies, relying instead on the strength of his powerful mind. His talent lies in his ability to maneuver the fight to his advantage. Hailing from a place he calls 'The Land behind the wall,' Dark Seer remains an outsider here—a warrior from a realm beyond the veil of this reality.

Once a great general among his people, and a valiant defender of the god-king Damathryx, Dark Seer's army was wiped out by a much larger force in the final days of the Great Boundaries War. Facing certain defeat, he made one last desperate act: At the last moment, just before capture, he crossed over—then sealed the walls forever in an explosive release of dark energy.

When the dust settled, he saw that he had saved his people but found himself blinking at the sun of a different world, with no way to return. Now he is committed to proving his worth as a military strategist, and vows to show that he's the greatest tactician this strange new world has ever seen.

Dark Willow Children love telling stories about the whimsical adventures of fairies And in the world of spiteful fairies there are few names spoken of with more contempt than Mireska Sunbreeze. Born to a fae merchant king, Mireska grew up in Revtel; a cutthroat nation where manipulation and murder were the norm.

But while she was quite adept at navigating the etiquette, unspoken laws, and social rituals that permeated every element of her life, she found the whole thing rather boring. So, Mireska did what most rebellious children do: Dazzle Each young acolyte to the Dezun order must complete a series of rites before becoming a shadow priest. The final rite, the rite of shades, is a harrowing spiritual journey through the Nothl Realm, an unpredictable domain from which not all visitants return.

Of those who do, some return mad. Others return with strange aptitudes. But all who go there are changed by their experiences. Driven by the need for enlightenment, Dazzle was the youngest of his tribe ever to request the sacred ritual. At first the order refused him, saying he was too young. But Dazzle was not to be dissuaded. Sensing something special in the headstrong young acolyte, the elders relented.

Dazzle drank down the sacred potion and sat by the fire while the rest of his tribe danced through the night. In this ethereal dimension of the Nothl Realm, the properties of light and dark are inverted. Thus his brilliant healing light, beautiful to our eye, is actually a sinister kind of evil; and the darkest deeds are done in a dazzling glow.

The elders' intuition was prophetic: Dazzle returned to his people as a Shadow Priest like none seen before, with the power to heal as well as to destroy. Now he uses his gift to cut down his enemies and mend his friends. Death Prophet Krobelus was a Death Prophet—which is one way of saying she told fortunes for the wealthiest of those who wished to look beyond the veil. But after years of inquiring on behalf of others, she began to seek clues on her own fate.

When death refused to yield its secrets, she tried to buy them with her life. But the ultimate price proved insufficient. Death disgorged her again and again, always holding back its deepest mysteries. Others could die for eternity—why not she? Why must she alone be cast back on the shores of life with such tiresome regularity? Why was she not worthy of the one thing all other living creatures took for granted?

Still, she would not be discouraged. Each time she returned from the grave, she brought a bit of death back with her. Wraiths followed her like fragments of her shattered soul; her blood grew thin and ectoplasmic; the feasting creatures of twilight took her for their kin.

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She gave a little of her life with every demise, and it began to seem as if her end was in sight. With her dedication to death redoubled, and no client other than herself, Krobelus threw herself ever more fervently into death's abyss, intent on fulfilling the one prophecy that eluded her: That someday the Death Prophet would return from death no more.

Disruptor High on the wind-ravaged steppes of Druud, a gifted young stormcrafter called Disruptor was the first to unlock the secrets of the summer squalls.

Constantly under assault from both seasonal storms and encroachment from civilized kingdoms to the South, the upland Oglodi have for centuries struggled to subsist atop the endless tablelands.

They are the fractured remnant of a once-great civilization, a fallen tribe, their stormcraft strange and inscrutable, cobbled together from scraps of lost knowledge which even they no longer fully understand.

For those on the high plain, weather has become a kind of religion, worshiped as both the giver and taker of life. But the electrical storms that bring life-sustaining rains arrive at a cost, and many are the charred and smoking corpses left in their wake.

Although small for his kind, Disruptor is fearless, and driven by an insatiable curiosity. As a youth, while still unblooded and without a stryder, he explored the ruins of the ancestral cities, searching through collapsed and long-moldering libraries, rummaging through rusting manufactories. He took what he needed and returned to his tribe. Adapting a coil of ancient design, he harnessed the power of electrical differential and now calls down the thunder whenever he wishes.

Part magic, part craftsmanship, his coils hold in their glowing plates the power of life and death—a power wielded with precision against the landed castes to the South, and any interlopers who cross into ancient Oglodi lands.

Doom He that burns and is not consumed, devours and is never sated, kills and is beyond all judgment—Lucifer brings doom to all who would stand against him.

Bearing away souls on the tip of a fiery sword, he is the Fallen One, a once-favored general from the realm behind the light, cast out for the sin of defiance: Six times his name was tolled from the great bell of Vashundol. Six and sixty times his wings were branded, until only smoking stumps remained. Without wings, he slipped loose from the tethers that bound him within the light and he fell screaming to earth.

A crater in the desert, Paradise lost. Now he attacks without mercy, without motive, the only living being able to move freely between the seven dark dominions. Lashed by inescapable needs, twisted by unimaginable talents, Doom carries his own hell with him wherever he goes. Defiant to the last. Eventually, the world will belong to Doom. Dragon Knight After years on the trail of a legendary Eldwurm, the Knight Davion found himself facing a disappointing foe: Seeing no honor to be gained in dragon-murder, Knight Davion prepared to turn away and leave his old foe to die in peace.

But a voice crept into his thoughts, and Slyrak gave a whispered plea that Davion might honor him with death in combat. Davion agreed, and found himself rewarded beyond expectation for his act of mercy: As he sank his blade in Slyrak's breast, the dragon pierced Davion's throat with a talon.

As their blood mingled, Slyrak sent his power out along the Blood Route, sending all its strength and centuries of wisdom to the knight. The dragon's death sealed their bond and Dragon Knight was born. The ancient power slumbers in the Dragon Knight Davion, waking when he calls it.

Or perhaps it is the Dragon that calls the Knight Drow Ranger Drow Ranger's given name is Traxex—a name well suited to the short, trollish, rather repulsive Drow people. But Traxex herself is not a Drow. Her parents were travelers in a caravan set upon by bandits, whose noisy slaughter of innocents roused the ire of the quiet Drow people. After the battle settled, the Drow discovered a small girl-child hiding in the ruined wagons, and agreed she could not be abandoned.

Even as child, Traxex showed herself naturally adept at the arts they prized: In spirit, if not in physique, she might have been a Drow changeling, returned to her proper home. But as she grew, she towered above her family and came to think of herself as ugly.

After all, her features were smooth and symmetrical, entirely devoid of warts and coarse whiskers. Estranged from her adopted tribe, she withdrew to live alone in the woods. Lost travelers who find their way from the forest sometimes speak of an impossibly beautiful Ranger who peered at them from deep among the trees, then vanished like a dream before they could approach. Lithe and stealthy, icy hot, she moves like mist in silence. That whispering you hear is her frozen arrows finding an enemy's heart.

Earth Spirit Deep amid the Upland crags and cliffs there runs a seam of sacred jade long foresworn by highland miners. From this rare material, the likeness of the great general Kaolin was carved and buried at the head of a stone funerary army ten thousand strong—a force of soldiers and holy men, jesters and acrobats, carved by crafstmen and entombed for millennia in the dark embrace of the Earth.

What the craftsmen had not known was that within the strange seam of jade flowed the spirit of the Earth itself—an elemental force at one with the planet.

When the force within the carved jade found itself cut off from the life's blood of the world, it gathered its strength over the course of a thousand years and dug itself free and into the light.

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Now the great Kaolin Earth Spirit strides the Upland roads, fighting for the spirit of the Earth; and in times of need calls forth remnants of his buried army still locked in the loving embrace of the soil. Earthshaker Like a golem or gargoyle, Earthshaker was one with the earth but now walks freely upon it. Unlike those other entities, he created himself through an act of will, and serves no other master.

In restless slumbers, encased in a deep seam of stone, he became aware of the life drifting freely above him. During a season of tremors, the peaks of Nishai shook themselves loose of avalanches, shifting the course of rivers and turning shallow valleys into bottomless chasms.

When the land finally ceased quaking, Earthshaker stepped from the settling dust, tossing aside massive boulders as if throwing off a light blanket. He had shaped himself in the image of a mortal beast, and named himself Raigor Stonehoof.

He bleeds now, and breathes, and therefore he can die. But his spirit is still that of the earth; he carries its power in the magical totem that never leaves him. And on the day he returns to dust, the earth will greet him as a prodigal son. Elder Titan Well may you ask, "How did this world take its form? Stamped with the earliest energies of the universe, they wished nothing more than to continue as creators themselves.

Thus they bent to the task of shaping matter to their will: And when matter proved less challenging than they liked, they turned their tools upon themselves, reshaping their minds and reforging their spirits until they had become beings of great endurance. Reality itself became the ultimate object of their smithing. Yet, along the way, they sometimes erred.

In cases of great ambition, mistakes are unavoidable. The one we know as the Elder Titan was a great innovator, one who studied at the forge of creation. In honing his skills, he shattered something that could never be repaired, only thrown aside.

He fell into his own broken world, a shattered soul himself. There he dwelt among the jagged shards and fissured planes, along with other lost fragments that had sifted down through the cracks in the early universe. And this is why the world we know resembles an isle of castaways, survivors of a wreck now long forgotten. Forgotten, that is, by all but the One who blames himself. He spends his time forever seeking a way to accomplish the repairs, that he might rejoin the parts of his broken soul, that we and the world alike might all be mended.

This is the One we know as Elder Titan. Ember Spirit Lost within the Wailing Mountains, the Fortress of Flares lay abandoned, its training halls empty, its courtyard covered in leaves and dust.

Upon a dais in its sealed temple rests a topaz cauldron filled with ancient ash, remnants of a pyre for the warrior-poet Xin. For three generations, Xin taught his acolytes the Bonds of the Guardian Flame, a series of mantras to train the mind and body for the harsh realities beyond the fortress walls.

However, in teaching a warrior's way he earned a warrior's rivals, and in his autumn Xin was bested and slain. His followers spread to the wind. Yet as years turned to centuries and followers to descendants, his teachings endured by subtle whisper and deed.

Touched by the teacher's lasting legacy, the Burning Celestial, inquisitive aspect of fire, cast himself to the Fortress of Flares and reignited the pyre ash. From these glowing embers emerged an image of Xin, wreathed in flame, his thoughtful countenance prepared to train and to teach, and to spread the fires of knowledge to all who seek guidance.

Enchantress Aiushtha appears to be an innocent, carefree creature of the woods, and while this is certainly true, it is hardly the sum of her story. She well understands the suffering of the natural world. She has wandered far, and fared through forests bright and drear, in every clime and every season, gathering friends, sharing news, bringing laughter and healing wherever she goes.

For in worlds wracked by war, forests are leveled for the building of ships and siege engines; and even in places of peace, the woods are stripped for the building of homes, and as fuel for countless hearths. Aiushtha hears the pleas of the small creatures, the furtive folk who need green shade and a leafy canopy to thrive. She lends her ears to those who have no other listeners. She carries their stories from the wood to the world, believing that her own good cheer is a kind of Enchantment, that can itself fulfill the promise of a verdant future.

Enigma Nothing is known of Enigma's background. There are only stories and legends, most of them apocryphal, passed down through the ages.

In truth, Enigma is a mystery for whom the only true biography is description: He is a being of the void, at times corporeal, other times ethereal. A beast between the planes. There are stories that say he was once a great alchemist who tried to unlock the secrets of the universe and was cursed for his arrogance.

Other legends tell that he is an ancient being of strange gravity, the abyss personified—a twisted voice from out the original darkness, before the first light in the universe.

And there are older legends that say he is the first collapsed star, a black hole grown complicated and sentient—his motivations unknowable, his power inexorable, a force of destruction unleashed upon existence itself. It remains a mystery why this being from another dimension believes the struggle for the Nemesis Stones is worth entering our physical plane, but apparently an upset in the balance of power in this world has repercussions in adjacent dimensions.

Time means nothing to Darkterror, except as a way to thwart his foes and aid his allies. His long-view of the cosmos has given him a remote, disconnected quality, although in battle he is quite capable of making it personal. Grimstroke The people of Ashkavor crowded around the temple square, eager to witness the ascension of their new guardian — to stand near the man as he bound their souls to his own.

But as his final brush strokes fell against the runestone, and the bond of a new Ascended One was forged, everyone — even those who'd stayed in their homes — could sense that something had gone terribly wrong. He knew the cause instantly. The droplets of ichor he'd procured to amplify the potency of his inkpots had instead contaminated them, and the power of the binding spell he'd cast now threatened to consume him.

An inky corruption snaked upward from the runestone, along the handle of his brush, soon overtaking his hands. From there it spread quickly. Once it overcame his face and his mouth, he couldn't have screamed even if he'd wanted to.

All of his life he'd calculated on how to attain ever greater powers than the limits presented by his teachers would allow—going so far as to break the sacred prohibition against augmenting the inks.

Indeed, with the wellspring of the Ascended bond open to him, he felt a measure of power coursing into his soul like he'd never imagined. His greatest triumph was upon him, if he could only survive it. He drew deep from the power of the bond, pushing back against the corrupted ink flow.

A great moan filled the air — the collective cry of his people. Some swayed on their feet. Many tried to run. And still deeper he pulled from their bloodline reservoir. But it wasn't enough to stop the ink tide. It was only when the breath trapped in his lungs began to fail him, and the inkpool darkness fully encased him, that he saw his way out. The bond he'd made with the Ashkavoran people — his people — meant to be drawn upon only in service of their protection It flowed two ways.

With a final surge of strength — this time directed by more than just blind repulsion — he pushed the ink torrent into the bond itself. Slowly, he felt the tide retreat When at last the ink relented, his eyes opened upon a world changed. The Ashkavoran people as he knew them were gone. Every last soul was transformed into terrifying shades of their former selves — comprised no longer of blood and bone, only viscid, tainted ink.

Gyrocopter After serving through a lifetime of wars, upheaval, riots, and revolutions, the brass figured Aurel had seen enough. But in addition to a few trinkets and his considerable pension, the erstwhile engineer left with something far more interesting: Retiring to the tropical obscurity of the Ash Archipelago with little else but time and money, he set to work building the device.

As the years wore on and the remains of failed prototypes began to pile up, he began to wonder if mechanical flight was even possible.

A decade and a day after his retirement, on a sunny afternoon with a southerly breeze, Aurel sat in his latest attempt bristling with indignation and expectant failure. With a grunt of effort he pulled the ignition cord and covered his head, waiting for the inevitable explosion. However to his great surprise he began to lift and, following a few panicked adjustments, stabilize. Within an hour, he was ducking and weaving with the breeze, level with the gulls, and Aurel found himself filled with the breathless wonder of flight.

As dusk settled in he set a course back to his workshop, but no sooner had he turned his craft when a cannonball tore through his tailfin. Disentangling himself from the wreckage, he swam toward the nearest piece of land in sight, and cursed to see the ship responsible for the cannonball collecting the debris.

Days later, when Aurel returned to his workshop, he set to work on yet another gyrocopter, this one capable of carrying a much heavier, more dangerous payload. Huskar Emerging from the throes of the sacred Nothl Realm, Huskar opened his eyes to see the prodigal shadow priest Dazzle working a deep incantation over him.

Against the ancient rites of the Dezun Order, Huskar's spirit had been saved from eternity, but like all who encounter the Nothl he found himself irrevocably changed.

No longer at the mercy of a mortal body, his very lifeblood became a source of incredible power; every drop spilled was returned tenfold with a fierce, burning energy. However this newfound gift infuriated Huskar, for in his rescue from the Nothl, Dazzle had denied him a place among the gods.

He had been denied his own holy sacrifice.

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In time the elders of the order sought to expand their influence and Huskar, they agreed, would be a formidable tool in their campaign. Yet becoming a mere weapon for the order that denied him his birthright only upset him further. As the first embers of war appeared on the horizon, he fled his ancestral home to find new allies, all the while seeking a cause worthy of unleashing the power his total sacrifice could bring.

Invoker In its earliest, and some would say most potent form, magic was primarily the art of memory. It required no technology, no wands or appurtenances other than the mind of the magician. All the trappings of ritual were merely mnemonic devices, meant to allow the practitioner to recall in rich detail the specific mental formulae that unlocked a spell's power. The greatest mages in those days were the ones blessed with the greatest memories, and yet so complex were the invocations that all wizards were forced to specialize.

The most devoted might hope in a lifetime to have adequate recollection of three spells—four at most. Ordinary wizards were content to know two, and it was not uncommon for a village mage to know only one—with even that requiring him to consult grimoires as an aid against forgetfulness on the rare occasions when he might be called to use it.

But among these early practitioners there was one exception, a genius of vast intellect and prodigious memory who came to be known as the Invoker. In his youth, the precocious wizard mastered not four, not five, not even seven incantations: He could command no fewer than ten spells, and cast them instantly.

Many more he learned but found useless, and would practice once then purge from his mind forever, to make room for more practical invocations. One such spell was the Sempiternal Cantrap—a longevity spell of such power that those who cast it in the world's first days are among us still unless they have been crushed to atoms. Most of these quasi-immortals live quietly, afraid to admit their secret: But Invoker is not one to keep his gifts hidden. He is ancient, learned beyond all others, and his mind somehow still has space to contain an immense sense of his own worth Io Io is everywhere, and in all things.

Denounced by enemies as the great unmaker, worshiped by scholars as the twinkling of a divine eye, this strange Wisp of life-force occupies all planes at once, the merest fraction of its being crossing into physical existence at any one moment. Like the great twin riders Dark and Light, and yet another ancient traveler whose true history is lost to the ages, Io the Wisp is a Fundamental of the universe, a force older than time, a wanderer from realms far beyond mortal understanding.

Io is nothing less than the sum of all attractive and repulsive forces within the material field, a sentient manifestation of the charge that bind existence together. It is only in the controlled warping of these electrical waylines that Io's presence can be experienced on the physical plane.

A benevolent, cooperative force, Io bonds its strange magnetism to others so that the power of allies might be enhanced. Its motives inscrutable, its strength unimaginable, Io moves through the physical plane, the perfect expression of the mysteries of the universe. Jakiro Even among magical beasts, a twin-headed dragon is a freak. Equal parts ice and fire, cunning and rage, the creature known as Jakiro glides over charred and ice-bound battlefields, laying waste to any who would bear arms against it.

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Pyrexae dragon clutches always contain two fledglings. Famous for their viciousness even from the first moments of life, newly hatched dragons of this species will try to kill their sibling while still in the nest. Only the strongest survive. In this way is the strength of the Pyrexae line ensured.

By some accident of nature, the freak Jakiro hatched from a single egg, combining in a single individual the full range of abilities found within the diverse Pyrexae species. Trapped within the armature of its monstrous body, the powers of ice and fire combine, and now no enemy is safe. Juggernaut No one has ever seen the face hidden beneath the mask of Yurnero the Juggernaut. It is only speculation that he even has one. For defying a corrupt lord, Yurnero was exiled from the ancient Isle of Masks—a punishment that saved his life.

The isle soon after vanished beneath the waves in a night of vengeful magic. He alone remains to carry on the Isle's long Juggernaut tradition, one of ritual and swordplay. The last practitioner of the art, Yurnero's confidence and courage are the result of endless practice; his inventive bladework proves that he has never stopped challenging himself.

Still, his motives are as unreadable as his expression. For a hero who has lost everything twice over, he fights as if victory is a foregone conclusion. Keeper of the Light Upon a pale horse he rides, this spark of endless suns, this Keeper of the Light. Ezalor long ago escaped the Fundamental plane, separating from the other ancient forces to which he was bound within the great Primordial harmony.

He is a power grown sentient in the dawn of the universe, and now rides forth in all planes at once, one step ahead of pursuing chaos, bearing his gift with him at the end of a radiant staff. His majestic truth lies hidden beneath the outward appearance of a slightly doddering old man who barely stays in the saddle. However, when faced with the challenge of chaos, or the forces of darkness, his primordial light bursts forth, and his full power is revealed, transforming him once again into a force to be reckoned with.

Kunkka As The Admiral of the mighty Claddish Navy, Kunkka was charged with protecting the isles of his homeland when the demons of the Cataract made a concerted grab at the lands of men. After years of small sorties, and increasingly bold and devastating attacks, the demon fleet flung all its carnivorous ships at the Trembling Isle. Desperate, the Suicide-Mages of Cladd committed their ultimate rite, summoning a host of ancestral spirits to protect the fleet.

Against the demons, this was just barely enough to turn the tide.

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As Kunkka watched the demons take his ships down one by one, he had the satisfaction of wearing away their fleet with his ancestral magic.

But at the battle's peak, something in the clash of demons, men and atavistic spirits must have stirred a fourth power that had been slumbering in the depths. The waves rose up in towering spouts around the few remaining ships, and Maelrawn the Tentacular appeared amid the fray. His tendrils wove among the ships, drawing demon and human craft together, churning the water and wind into a raging chaos. What happened in the crucible of that storm, none may truly say.

The Cataract roars off into the void, deserted by its former denizens. Kunkka is now The Admiral of but one ship, a ghostly rig which endlessly replays the final seconds of its destruction. Whether he died in that crash is anyone's guess. Not even Tidehunter, who summoned Maelrawn, knows for sure. Legion Commander They came without warning. Within the city walls of Stonehall there came a rumble and a terrible sound, and from blackness unknown came a force of beasts numbering beyond count, wielding flame and foul sorcery, slaying and snatching mothers and sons to dark purpose.

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Of once-mighty Stonehall's military strength only the Bronze Legion, led by the indomitable Commander Tresdin, was near enough to answer the call of battle. They rode into their city, fighting through bloodstained alleyways and burning markets, cutting their way through the monstrous throng to the source of the sudden invasion: Enwrapped in a corrosive shimmer, the leader of the abyssal horde swung its massive blade, cleaving a legionnaire in two as his flesh began to spoil. Tresdin lifted her blood-stained sword and settled her sights on the beast.

It turned, smiling at her through a maze of teeth. Heedless of the battle raging around them, they charged one another. Deflecting blow after blow, the pair danced their deadly duel as the Bronze Legion met its end around them. Tresdin leapt forward as her foe swung its sword to meet her. The attack smashed into Tresdin suddenly, a brutal thrust from the side, but even as her balance slipped she rallied her strength for another stroke.

Blade scraped on blade, beyond the hilt to the gnarled paw below, carving it in two in a fearsome spray of sparks and blood. The vile audience looked on in astonishment as she pressed the attack, driving her blade through her foe's flesh into the stampeding heart within. With a scream that split the clouds above, the beast erupted in a torrent of gore and anguish. The stygian portal wavered, the power sustaining the chasm beyond vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.

It was a similar story with EG and Newbee too until game 2, which turned into one of the longest games of the tournament, going up to the minute mark. It was going to be a Drow Ranger strategy working its magic for Wings yet again. Game 2 had Wings Gaming going for a super mid-game heavy team-fight lineup that was executed to perfection and won in the timing window around the minute mark, leaving MVP Phoenix in the lower bracket and Wings Gaming just one step away from the Grand Final.

EG ended up playing yet another drawn out game, this one lasting 75 minutes before the Axe, Mirana, and Faceless Void core lineup of EG was able to come out victorious. Wing ended up coming out on top, with all its heroes hitting their peak on their power curves around mid game; a few team-fights were enough to secure them rolling over EG.

The second game turned out to be more of a stomp with Wings Gaming catching EG out with a Huskar strategy, allowing Wings Gaming to be the first team to plant itself in Grand Finals, with all the other teams of the Upper Bracket now down in the Lower Bracket and a series away from elimination.

Lower Bracket The second round of the Lower Bracket kicked off with fan-favorites and one of the favorites to win the entire tournament. OG pulled out a now recurring Drow Ranger based, right-click heavy lineup that didn't quite work out of it come late game. TNC's Vengeful Spirit and Axe acted as great distance-closers to save people from Chronos and get behind enemy lines respectively.

The second game saw TNC close out its draft with a surprise Huskar pick, which along with a Drow Ranger and Faceless Void being played by offlaner, Sam H -- landed clutch Chronos time and again enabled them to close out the second game and pick up the win, knocking out OG in the process. Biggest upset of the tournament and getting TNC a guaranteed Top 8 finish.

A farm intensive Naga-core lineup along with w33haa on his signature Invoker secured the game for DC in the first battle between the two teams. Some clutch Wywern ults later, it was in the driving seat, victory all but assured. All three games were needed to decide a winner from the two. Newbee ended up closing the game out around the minute mark. Game two saw Liquid pick up a Shadow Demon and Mirana combo, which it executed to devastating effect, forcing out a GG-call from the Chinese team in merely 17 minutes — the shortest game of the tournament.

DC was up next in the next round of Lower Bracket Matches. Being up against a Naga Siren, TnC knew that it had to end the game before she came online, and did just that. W33haa had a beastly game on his mid Magnus, having enough gold to buy Echo Sabre by the eighth minute and blink dagger soon after. DC got the better of almost every skirmish minus some good Axe play coming out from TnC, and solidified its position with team-fight after team-fight to take the game and the series to a deciding game three.

The resolve that DC showed in game two, to come back from a defeat in game one was not something TnC showed in the next game. W33haa and Resolution completely took over the game and put DC in pole position to take the game, which they did, after a Roshan pickup, clean, crisp execution.

DC was showing signs of meaning this business this TI. EHome was the next team to face Team Digital Chaos and this series got off to a flyer. Against a greedy lineup, DC took the reins early on and set the tempo, picking off AM time with its strong lockdown and w33haa throwing sunstrikes all over the place on his signature Invoker.

Game Two was more of the same except it was Resolution on his signature Faceless Void that stole the show this time. DC picked up the win, forcing out the GG call at around the minute mark and securing its position in the top 4. Game one saw a melee-heavy Ursa core lineup from Misery for DC and it never looked out of shape at pretty much any point of the game. Winning its lanes and the resulting team-fights that happened pretty convincingly, DC sat back and farmed up a commanding lead before pushing high ground to end the game.

Game two saw Fnatic play its trump card, the Huskar, but as a fourth pick, leaving the team open to get countered. This was exactly what happened as DC drafted for itself a Chaos Knight, only the second appearance for the hero since it was pulled out by the team in the group stage against Secret as a counter to Huskar.

One game away from the grand finals, both EG and DC were going to give it all in this series for a chance to play for the Aegis of Champions.

Leaping into a team-fight near the Radiant Top Tier 1, Stars fell and w33haa secured a triple kill, a turning point in the game that, up till that point, DC was struggling with.

His tenacity combined with clutch Ravages from Moo later on in the game allowed DC to pick up the victory in game number one. The TI5 champs, with their backs against the walls picked up Sven, Medusa core next game, which was replied by Misery with perhaps the surprise pick of the tournament.

The deciding game three had Resolution playing on Slark being shut down super hard in the early game, while old man Fear farmed up a beastly Terrorblade. But the story of the tournament was DC. Two teams that peaked at the right times in the tournament faced off against each other to battle for the Aegis of Champions.