He now knew the yordle as Poppy, though when he first met her he did not know her name. She wore the armor of a Demacian warrior. He recognized the female yordle, but she was not wearing what Galio remembered her wearing when they first met on this very spot. Sitting on a nearby stump was a familiar face. “It is, Galio of Demacia.” The squeaky, yet powerful yordle voice belonged to a female. The sickly-sweet scent of the fruit made him anxious. He knew it was impossible for him to actually be here, but everything felt real. Galio shifted in place, trying to shake the invasive notion out of his head. An unwelcome thought masquerading as his own edged its way into his consciousness. He thought it now as he did back then, but this time he knew something was different. He had failed to protect his master from the Noxian assassins who ambushed them, and it was here that he kept a penitent vigil for years afterwards. Galio loathed that smell the stench of sweet fruit growing, ripening, and rotting in a never-ending cycle reminded him of his failure to save Durand, his creator. He could smell the peaches and cherries ripening on the branches. In the center of the clearing were Durand’s bones, blanched from countless days of weathering. The clearing was surrounded by a thick copse of fruit trees. There was never a chance of him forgetting this place. With a sudden flood of light, Galio knew where he was. The engraved obsidian panthers that flank the doorway point the way inward for Galio. The doors swing open, revealing the inky blackness within. He moves as gracefully as a being made of stone and metal can. Broad, powerful wings spread wide and slowly beat against the stillness of the air, propelling the gargoyle forward with a not-so-gentle whoosh. His form is literally statuesque.Īfter a lengthy pause, Galio springs to life, lumbering toward the door. Galio nods knowingly, but does not move afterwards. The double doors – and the sign above it – are all that matters.

The reality of the situation is that he is intently studying what lies before him. This look is intentionally deceptive, magically crafted to lull an opponent into thinking that Galio is mentally slow. His facial features, especially his massive jaw with the exaggerated underbite, give the massive gargoyle the look of a simpleton. One may mistake this look to mean the great beast is dumbfounded.

Galio wears a face as though he is lost in concentration. He had a new reason to live: to join the League of Legends and fight for the will of Demacia. Remembering the cause that his master had died defending, Galio arose from his silent purgatory and followed in the wake of this brave creature. This encounter lit a spark in Galio’s eye. As quietly and as stoically as she had arrived, she departed in the direction of Demacia. She looked as though she too shouldered a tremendous burden. Hidden in plain sight from his unsuspecting visitor, Galio studied the forlorn yordle. Then, on one nondescript day, a sad but determined Poppy yordle girl carrying a mighty Demacian crown stopped in the shadow of a great statue to rest. For years he remained in solitude, standing vigil over the bones of the master he had failed to protect… a literal monument to his own everlasting shame. Stripped of his reason for being, Galio despaired. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, Galio looked on in horror as the murderers cut down his charge, executing him swiftly before vanishing back into the mists. That is, until dealing with his taxing sentinels finally roused the ire of the Noxian High Command.Īs Durand crossed the Howling Marsh with his masterwork in tow, he was set upon by Noxian assassins in force. This mighty construct forged in the image of a gargoyle kept him safe on his journeys, allowing him to perform his important work without fear of reprisal from those hostile to his homeland. For his own defense, however, Durand kept his magnum opus: Galio. Peerless at crafting sentient beings, Durand’s constructs served as tireless guardians for the border towns of his beloved city-state, affording them protection from their Noxian neighbors. One such visionary was the Demacian artificer, Durand. Now forbidden, instilling golems with reason was once not so uncommon a practice amongst the more expert of craftsmen. Long before the League’s regulation of such magic, mages experimented with the creation of artificial life.

Galio and yet it moves