Sion skins

Beneath the armor Sion was living flesh and blood, same as every Hand of Noxus who came before him. But whenever he decided to enter the arena, his roar would shake the stands, his bloody signature the crunch of a blunt axe through bone. His footfalls alone made even the most seasoned pit fighter cower in fear… and the crowd loved every minute of it.

Sion was a warrior who found a way to fight his planet's destruction at the hands of the Dark Star to his dying breath. Bel'Veth, fascinated by his stubborn tenacity, raised him from that dying world. Now he fights by her side, a battering ram of force and violence turned towards a singular purpose: eliminating the Dark Star.

As soon as Sion knew life, he knew rage: rage that ripped the restraints from the operating table; rage that crushed the bones of those men who tried to play at the miracle of Creation; rage that he ain't, nor ever would be, the second clockwork angel they had hoped to construct. Sion knows rage, and so will the world.

A fearsome jötunn who once stood at the front of Lissandra's vast armies, Sion fell in battle only for his master's magic to weave itself beneath his massive frame, resurrecting him as a monster of rage and cold.

A once towering fortress toppled during the last annihilation, the thing called Sion was given consciousness by Malzahar, and raised up to become the purest titan of death and destruction. Now, imbued with ravenous hatred, he blasts the terrain with every step, hellbent on culling any instance of life.

The ultimate ground-based mecha unit, 0-SION becomes like a freight train once given a combat directive, and will literally stop at nothing to dismantle an opponent—no matter how much damage it takes. There are lingering concerns that it could go rogue, but so far these worries have been unfounded.

No memory of the man that Sion was remains. His life is spite, a curse on those who would dare to strike him down. But through it all—each ill-fated century—he remains, his decaying form bound together by his armor's dark magic.

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.

Avoiding every social cue his roleplaying group throws his way, Sion has repeatedly rolled barbarians only to die immediately after rejoining the table. At this point he's spent more time working on character sheets than actually playing Rift Quest, and it shows: his newest barbarian's backstory reads, “Is a barbarian.”

Over the years, many have asked—should art be chained by the fleeting concept of morality? Or should science bend a knee to the laws of man? Some believe progress is not made by holding ourselves back, and though we may give birth to monsters… Hextech will always guide our path...