OOC: Noxus wasn’t built in a day. It was built in several. By me.
The black city of Noxus, from which the nation derives its name, is an architectural marvel and one of the great wonders of the world. Its construction predates even the nation itself, stretching back to an all but forgotten age. Even Noxians do not claim to know who built it. As far as most people care to know, the city has always existed. In truth, it was erected in the long reign of Mordekaiser, primeval warlord of Valoran. Countless slaves and laborers toiled and died raising the city’s walls and citadel, taking generations to complete, while the wanton use of magic in the construction helped realize the grandest of designs. Most Noxians do not know the origins of their city, but some are keener, especially those willing to delve into the city’s secrets. Nonetheless, Noxus embodies its offspring nation’s principle that strength is eternal.
Typical architecture (OOC: Concept art of the Kirkwall Gallows from Dragon Age II).
If a single word could easily describe Noxus, it’s “cavernous”. Certain sections of the city are nothing short of colossal; from the awesome Conquest Gate, to the titanic Dead Trenches, to the looming Immortal Bastion, one can be made to feel awfully small in Noxus. From certain vantage points, the city can stretch as far as the eye can see. The architecture itself relies on strong, severe lines, sharp edges and drab stone; and heavily feature skulls, dragons, and other iconography that portend power or doom, relics of Mordekaiser’s aesthetic.
The city, of course, is filled with all manner of buildings: vendors, markets, forges, taverns, brothels, homes of all social standings, ad infinitum.
The construction most often follows the lay of the land, rising and falling naturally with elevation; other times, it continues in a direction in spite of a depression in the land, accounting for it by also building vertically all the way to the ground.
A considerable portion of Noxus lies underground; spacious sewers and storm drains, storerooms and undercrofts, tunnels and accessways, old slave quarters and mining shafts provide a safe haven and breeding ground for Noxus’ criminal element, as well as a quick means of travel for those wise to the tunnels’ idiosyncrasies, such as the Black Rose. The subterranean granaries, kept under close guard from greedy hands, are large enough to feed the city for a whole year in case of a siege.
The sprawling interior of the city has changed a deal since its earliest days, what with the expansion of the underground and necessary reconstruction after major fires and such, but the legendary black walls and the Immortal Bastion have endured. Built from the same gleaming black stone (often misidentified as obsidian), these structures have proven impervious to both time and the tampering of man. The stone resists every attempt to change it (even to its benefit), while no known weapon can harm it. Even during the Siege of Noxus centuries ago, the closest Demacia has ever come to besting its eternal rival, the assembled siege equipment of King Jarvan I could only inflict a few scratches and chips on the walls’ surface.
Noxus has never been taken by siege or storm in modern times, and with good reason; it may be the most defensible city in the world. From no gate is there a straight path to the Immortal Bastion. The city is divided into walled districts, each one capable of sealing itself from the others. Thanks to the city’s labyrinthine design, these districts act as buffers for the Immortal Bastion. If a force were to somehow breach the gates, they would have to fight their way through several districts in order to reach the Bastion. But the gates themselves are an invader’s first impediment. The Gate of Conquest (touched on later), the easiest entrance to march an army through, stands little chance of falling to siege weaponry. Therefore, an enemy commander would be forced to take one of the smaller gates, which are natural bottlenecks, replete with their own defenses. Overcoming that, the gates’ tight confines would prevent any substantial force from moving through at once. A commander would either have to accept the delay of getting all his men through a single narrow opening, or divide his forces to take multiple gates and unable to regroup easily.
In the time of Mordekaiser, the structure that would become known as the Bleak Academy served as the dark lord’s alchemical lab and repository of arcane knowledge. It is here that he plied his craft as a sorcerer, exploring the nature of the soul and how to harness it for his own devices. Much anguish and suffering was born here. In modern times, the academy’s usage has remained much the same.
Within this squat warren of black stone, possibly of the same material as the city walls and the Immortal Bastion, Noxus’ scholars, scientists, men of alchemy, and practitioners of other esoteric arts create dangerous substances, experiment with new innovations, and investigate the nature of reality and magic. It pales in comparison to Zaun’s own academies, but remains impressive in the world of Noxus. Many of the ancient tomes belonging to Mordekaiser were burnt or taken when the city was left derelict, but many of its old facilities have remained intact or have been replaced. The sum knowledge of Noxus is kept within the Academy’s vaults. Some parts of the academy are free to the public, but many of them are off-limits, on account of the sensitive materials or information contained therein.
OOC: Sion’s memorial, and what initiated the whole idea of this location. Notice the high walls above? THAT’s what inspired this trench idea.
Possessing the largest military in Valoran and placing great value on strength, it should come as no surprise that Noxus boasts a prodigious resting place for its fallen. The dead are not buried in Noxus, for there is precious little dirt within the city; instead, they are commended to the tombs of the Dead Trenches. Its name comes from the view from the ground of the high walls that enclose this district and its purpose. Typically, only city-born citizens are allowed a permanent place in the Trenches; outsiders are burnt in grand pyres. Accommodations vary depending on one’s class; commoners are regulated to communal mausoleums, nobility usually own a familial crypt, and recognized heroes are given great sepulchers carved in their likeness. The greatest such memorial belongs to Sion, pictured at the head, the general who broke the Siege of Noxus by killing King Jarvan I before dying himself.
OOC: Concept art from Dragon Age II, which captures what I imagined for these crypts
Larger still is the Tomb of the Unknowns, which houses unidentified remains, those unclaimed or unable to be claimed, if they have no relatives, and those lost afield but nonetheless honored with a space. The Dead Trenches extend well into the underground, and careful expansions are regularly made deeper to accommodate the population. Citizens are allowed to come and go through the Trenches whenever they please, but guards keep a close eye for graverobbers, as some try and risk to plunder the possessions of wealthy individuals. This isn’t often the case as Noxus traditionally looks down on materialism, but burying one with valuables is a symptom of the nobility’s influence in the city.
The impregnable walls of Noxus are not without a few points of entry. Several gates lead into the city, each of differing size and purpose. The smaller gates are more analogous to tunnels than proper doors, passing under and through the city wall itself, and are protected by portcullises, doors secured with heavy iron bars, and murder holes.
But the largest gateway into the city, almost as tall as the wall itself, is the Gate of Conquest: a massive double set of doors wrought in steel and emblazoned with the grim, ancient sigil of Noxus. The gate allows fifteen mounted men to ride abreast or forty men to march through shoulder-to-shoulder, and opens onto an equally-massive open road. The bastions adjacent to the gate house the mechanisms needed to operate it.
Because of the doors’ great size, they are too cumbersome to open and close on a regular basis or on short notice (say in an attack). Hence, the gate is rarely ever opened. In fact, the Gate of Conquest has only opened a handful of times in the nation’s long history, each a breathtaking experience, sometimes interspersed between decades, and always done symbolically to declare a major offensive. Opening and marching out of the Gate of Conquest symbolizes Noxus’ roused strength, as if the city were a latent giant.
Of all Noxus’ forms of public entertainment, blood sports is the most beloved. Nobility may look down upon the street performances beloved by smallfolk, and said smallfolk may similarly disdain the pastimes of well-off nobles, such as hawking—but Noxians of all sorts of ages and standings share an appreciation for gladiatorial combat.
To this end, city residents occasionally flock to the Grand Arena, the largest fighting pit of its kind in the city. It isn’t just the thrill of danger or the prospect of bloodshed that draws the crowds, but the application of their nation’s merits. For Noxus, the mortal art of combat isn’t mere butchery, but a chance to display one’s strength, courage, and skill. Some even venture to say that the arena slakes man’s innate bloodthirst in a controlled manner, thus keeping the people content. Victorious fighters are treated well, even if they are prevented from leaving, while those who proved memorable in death are forever remembered and honored on the arena’s monument to the fallen.
The participants are often criminals or prisoners of war, but the arena also keeps a menagerie of beasts brought from abroad to make matches livelier whenever necessary. The objective of the combatants can change too, from time to time, according to the caprices of the heads of the arena or a wealthy patron. The most well-known form of match is known as “The Fleshing”. It follows the normal procedure, kill your opponent, but comes with a twist: For every victory, the more opponents one would face in the next battle. This means the eventual death of every contender, but also unparalleled glory. Of course, given the cost of lives, the Fleshing is a spectacle done with some rarity; and typically reserved for special occasions, such as the raising of a new member to High Command or to celebrate a major victory afield (an influx of new prisoners of war helps a great deal).
OOC: Kirkwall of Dragon Age II is one of my favorite cities in fiction ever, and was a big influence for my vision of Noxus overall.
As the empire’s economic capital too, Noxus comes with a fully-equipped and spacious harbor. Here, dozens of trading galleys and cogs bring in goods from the seas under the silent vigil of the moored Noxian Armada. But if one thinks to approach the city from the sea, one must first pass through a pair of sheer cliffs. Defense emplacements line the channel between said cliffs, and massive boom chains can be raised to prevent passage altogether in case of emergencies. Neither can landing parties find purchase beside the cliffs, which are too steep to scale without proper climbing equipment, which itself wouldn’t be very practical when weighed down by one’s own armor and other gear. Furthermore, would-be climbers would be vulnerable to defenders dropping things onto them or picking them off with archery the whole way up, as the cliffs possess slight openings for that purpose, part of a man-made tunnel system.
OOC: One of the first scenes of Fable II, and one that’s stuck with me for years. Whenever I’ve thought of the Immortal Bastion, this is what comes to mind. It doesn’t look like my vision of the Bastion, but this was a point of reference; this massive elevated castle in the center of the city, visible from all directions.
The very heart of Noxus, of both the city and the nation. You’ll see it miles before you reach the city, as it was built into a lone, solitary mountain. It is a fortress of unprecedented size if one considers what lies within the mountain itself, and is made from the same indestructible black stone as the city walls. From here, Mordekaiser ruled his vast empire in ancient times. It is yet still a seat of power, though Mordekaiser has long since left Noxus; it now houses Noxian High Command, the ruling body of the nation itself, headed by Noxus’ Grand General. An austere and grim majesty describes the fortress interior, as built to Mordekaiser’s tastes and maintained by its current occupants.
OOC: This is the kind of the stuff you’d find in Noxus, at least in the Bastion or underground. Just a door from Darksiders II. There’s no proper way for me to express my love of Darksiders aesthetic, especially the second game’s. I recommend you pick up a copy, for reference if nothing else.
Positioned in the city center, the whole rest of the city is built to defend the Immortal Bastion; the complicated street plans, the segregation of the districts, all of it is meant to better protect the citadel against enemy intrusion. Even in the extreme unlikelihood that all else fails, the Immortal Bastion can keep an enemy army at bay. The ascent alone would prove arduous, as smaller forts, accessible from the fortress via hidden tunnels, stand in the way of the road. The fortress comes its own storerooms, granaries, halls, kitchens forges, barracks, alchemical labs, stables, archives, and courtyards; while countless dungeons fill the lower depths, along with an indeterminate number of tunnels can bring one anywhere and everywhere in the city. Don’t think that the castle’s entirely subterranean, though. What visibly extends from the mountain could qualify as a castle in its own right. There is a network of secret passages even in the castle proper, some of which connect to the aforementioned tunnels. Invaders stand little chance of abusing any of these passageways, as knowledge of their existence and locations are kept under wraps; not even all of High Command are privy to them. But the Black Rose certainly knows, and has occasionally divulged a few of these passages to whomever is in their favor at the time.
One of the wealthiest and most well-preserved districts in the city, named for its bone-white flagstones and known for its grand marketplace, at the center of which looms an ancient stone dragon inlayed with actual bone (of dubious origin), another of Mordekaiser’s personal touches. Some of the oldest noble households in the city are located here, some of them owning walled estates complete with their own gardens, a rare thing indeed in a city of stone.
While Noxus certainly has poor quarters, no one’s conditions are as wretched as those that eke out an existence in the rough foothills outside the city walls. These ramshackle dwellings have no name, but are collectively recognized as the Outskirts. No one lives here by choice; the inhabitants are victims of circumstance, either refugees displaced by war or those simply too poor to live in the safety of Noxus’ walls. Families cramp into failing almshouses, surviving on a diet of rats and rainwater. The utter lack of sanitation, as water is too precious to spare, allows disease to run rampant. It’s no surprise that many mornings begin with the wailing of bereaved parents who wake to find their child cold and lifeless beside them. And every morning, threadbare morticians drive their carts through town, calling for people’s dead and singing consoling hymns. These men do not work on behalf of the city. No one asks them to collect the dead; no one asks them to spend precious time and energy laying other people’s folk to rest, whether in biting cold or gusting wind; no one asks them to sing their songs of solace. What they do, they do willingly. These “tally-men”, as they’re sometimes called, are spiritual in some regard, almost as a necessity, considering their line of work. How else can a man convince a grieving father to surrender the pale body of his daughter, if not with promises that she awaits a better existence? These undertakers pay respect to Kindred, the dual aspects of death, notching their staves for every body they collect.
The existence of the Outskirts exemplify the flaws of Noxus’ overemphasis of self-determinism―and in sight of the capital no less. A man might think enlisting in order to provide for his family, but becoming a soldier takes months of training; months they would be away from home, such as it is; months that, without them being there, their family may not have. Thus, they are trapped, unable to change their lot.
The Outskirts are suffered to exist, though High Command often condemns it as a blight on their great city to no action. The city watch does nothing to police the Outskirts under the justification that it lies beyond their jurisdiction, but it does watch against the shanty town’s growth. The watch does not permit the town to encroach too closely to the city’s roads or walls, as the latter might provide assailants a means to scale the walls.
BEHOLD: MY GREATEST WORK YET.
Building my vision of Noxus, piece by piece, was a ton of fun. I’ve always had this image of the city in the head, but I only started organizing them a couple of days ago, then suddenly, oops, I made this post.
Please, if you’re a League of Legend RP Blog, pass this to every Noxian muse you know. For the last few days, I’ve looked forward to coming home and compounding what I drummed up for that day; new ideas, specific wordings, little nuances. I’ve put some time and effort into getting every little say of mine in, damn near every little thought I’ve had about the city. But if I waited to perfect it all, as I’m tempted to do, I’d never post this thing. So it may be a little messy; some passages might be a little hard to read, there could be spelling errors, that kind of stuff… but I wanted to get this out to the community.
A Song of Ice and Fire: King’s Landing & Mereen & The Wall
Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest
Dark Souls: High Wall of Lothric & Irithyll of the Boreal Valley
Dragon Age: Kirkwall & Minrathous
League of Legends (OH REALLY, IOANE?)
Lord of the Rings: Orthanc & Minas Tirith
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
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