Jarvan, The Fallen
This isn’t a new champion... This is the cost of courage.
Passive — Cull:
Jarvan controls a gauge, this gauge can reach up to 6 attacks. When the gauge meter is full, Jarvan will slow nearby enemies. Basic attacks fill up the gauge, after the 3rd basic attack from Jarvan, his basic attacks will start to consume his mana and deal %max HP to an opponent. Jarvan’s gauge is separate from his mana and health pools. 4th, 5th, and 6th basic attack are the only attacks which consume Jarvan’s mana, until the 6th attack depletes the gauge starting at 0.
The increase of gauge bonus to Jarvan’s abilities refers to Jarvan remaining between a half filled gauge and until the 6th basic attack.
Q — Reduction:
Jarvan extends his lance to sweep down from the sky, knocking up enemies. If gauge is over 3/6 full, the attack will slightly pull enemies back to Jarvan.
W — Castigate:
Jarvan marks all nearby disabled enemy champions, taking %max HP from each of them, then the mark activates once their disables ends. Jarvan can gain the max health took as health on his next basic attack. Gauge bonus is a short attack speed buff when proccing the mark.
E — Dismember:
A flag pole falls from the sky in target location, the flag instantly falls through a crack, as it disappears a second pole-arm falls from the sky. It will slow enemies by 99% for 1 second in a larger radius, and fear enemy champions if your gauge is at least 3/6 full.
R — Hope:
A ray of sunshine erupts, Jarvan’s armor is untainted, his abilities reset. He now uses Martial Cadence, Dragon Strike, Golden Aegis, and Demacian Standard. For 30 seconds, at level 11 he gains the ability to cause rift’s to appear, every 3rd ability will use one of his darkin abilities, despite the tooltip remaining unchanged. Afterwords the ray emits a strong glow and vanishes. At level 16 a very large circle slowly contracts, Jarvan can gain increased speed to his attacks, movement, recall and cast time inside that circle until it collapses. Jarvan can use Recall to end the earlier cadence prematurely.
Jarvan’s max rank between all of his basic abilities reach max rank 3. Jarvan can level up his ultimate 18 times. Starting at level 1 Jarvan can activate for 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45 attack retaliation onto an attacker. Until level 9, and at level 10 the attack retaliation is replaced by damage reduction up until level 18 for 5, 7.5, 10, 12.5, 15, 17.5, 20, 22.5, 25% damage reduction. Jarvan’s basic abilities upgrade simultaneously at levels 5 and final ranks at level 9. Jarvan will always have his first 3 abilities leveled from left to right.
What is Martial Cadence:
Innate: Jarvan’s passive basic attacks against enemies deal %current health. Does not work more than once on a same target every few seconds.
What is Dragon Strike:
Q: Jarvan extends his lance in a target direction, reducing their armor as well, if you contact a Demacian Standard flag it will knockup enemies and travel Jarvan to its location.
What is Golden Aegis:
W: Jarvan gains a small shield, and slows nearby enemies.
What is Demacian Standard:
E: Jarvan drops a flag in a target location providing true sight. Allies gain an aura of bonus attack speed near that flag.
Your Sire
The streets weeps, a heavy steel masqueraded his city streaks.
Promised land for a favor, demanded our full paper, the rise and fall over a future. Our guidance true, his heart deceased he wouldn’t ask another favor later. But he left em all just to erupt begin anew.
Country men despised of our greedy adolescence,
torched and fall left bathed towards a dawn.
The winter came and trusted beneath our city walls.
Favors that were kept were discouraged and never to have left this ballroom.
He’s nothing damnation but a scoundrel;
dirty filth, I would have fed him to any of our old hounds.
When we were left to rot, he believed he’d the choice of cost over fortune.
I’ve left this day praying another may that we’ll see buss our’s truss away.
Plentiful filth, directed they’ve cost me misfortune.
Full of my discourse and mucked bust with nothing to show for it.
I hope that only one day trust me with, I’ll see them tied to a noose and brought me here to say:
General dismay I’ve cause. I’ll finish this cost of action and bring it up to my faction.
Betrothed hostile this week to Jarvan.
I’ve written this for our countrymen.
Best believe we not see this again.
Best believe I might not see you again.
Fellow fellows, grab your hearts and not your spears.
Think we’ve seen the committee you hold dear.
The tight rift we’ve tided along these shores have gone for fortnight.
False accusations, constant constellations, consultation, consolation, fear fiction fright.
Gauge bonus up here
Now that an enemy has fallen, (otherwise AKA their disable ended), Jarvan clicks the health he took and adds the same onto his own health pool.
Jarvan’s Ultimate, Hope:
The circle has an epicenter when ultimate ended and does not move with Jarvan’s movements. Unlike when ultimate is active.
Lightbrew‘s
Those who wish to join into the Demacian army.
Early winter air tumbled down the northern mountains of Freljord, signifying this year’s perfect harvest was coming to an end. Burdened by the last plunge of heat the summer tore onto those still wearing their thin loins, a brisk wind felt cooling their backs. Transitioning beneath their feet — to quote “The summer’s day had been accompanied by scolding rains cried down from its cold heavens, washing to the shores of our grown skintous wishfulness; followed by the flooding of natures fleet’s to guide their vessel’s into porous deep underground, beginning to miss their air then a frost permeates to the vast mainland, and drenching it with its stickly tuff” Participants and gatherers felt this chilling grasp tug them along moving towards the space occupied near Silwer Tower.
Forged with his last dim light remaining, reminiscing his peaked shaggy hair, his eyes squinted as the sun sparked his lack of sleep. Prince Jarvan equipped those less shiny boots, had one last polish to them, a diminishing look; a brown studded vest, and thick drab he constituted as pants, with one last comb to his hair, he ventured to that stablehouse ill-prepared. And not without a last morning slew to a visit to his father’s — speaking in a promise he later made this evening he would seek out the conspirators to this Harwitch village they hide in.
Already parked in front of his father’s stablehouse, Prince Jarvan saw Sire Marticuss, a familiar steed and his electric mane triggers with pride and confidence; his sparring attitude that that horse acquired from young Prince Jarvan, and such defeats strengthened a further bond between the two. Stamping out, his spun legs, and this gold horse only noted in Demacia as vehemently deer-like, and that to do with the Luminosity of things, and thus Luminous Deer, and its ginger mane spoke highly of this. The foreground prepared in a side forest.
No longer trudging along a tower, Prince Jarvan felt the need for a second belt; to tighten around his hinged abdomen, and squeeze him from this earlier morning. Then Prince Jarvan lurched out to the squire boy still holding onto his horse and said “Heavily treated that the Horse’s that you do?”
The boy looked around to near Prince Jarvan, his then chief and head, thinned out pupils, and its dilating of blue blocked the view was a dim target seen well above Prince Jarvan too, he signed off his mate. Jarvan IV left early afternoon.
Prodigy
Although it’s day was moist, with a glistening from the sun focused around Silwer Tower, the note of it peaking across the pointed tower signified the race was meant to be underway. In favor of the locals between High Silvermere and Edessa, the residents prepared accommodations at the finishing line for the Mere-to-Edessa Derby. Those who were to remain victorious, he would be seen to mask under extremely egregious cavalry, further rigorous booting, that of which the victor has always been rewarded.
Overextending that finish line, several mountains sloped down and formed the larger bridge, a race track built into the landing but more like a horn of a pantheon man long forgotten. Regardless all terrain seen was muddled with vulgar blistering rocks; largely hidden behind plentiful trees. Not seen were waterfalls and cracks and essence. His track was sparse, then narrow, then again with it thick and majorly dense. Following by with his steeper inclines and clenches between the riders, finally you will be seeing them funnel towards those same similar fields rebounding these lands, and a last stretch to give victory.
Henry had carried over in bringing his Horse to a resting bench, later he wandered off too, overdose with patience. When he left his place he found Prince Jarvan, last he seen yesterday’s night, at a formal gathering under his crown’s house, and celebrating the victories headed along the East clashing with Noxian territory disputes. All now in an exaggeration for what Henry’d kill to place first, he recommended Prince Jarvan not lose to third place this time around. As he was finicking with his Horse’s saddle, his squire recommended him to check that slack of the rein’s. “Come on now.” He said. Without explaining much further, that he did, not noticing Prince Enedel was already strutting over to him now.
“Why don’t you mind the embroidered satchel!” Prince Enedel was taking off again to that rough porter mastering him. “That you do, meaty hands, let go of his leg-ah! As though you couldn’t know the difference between either my Horse’s hoof or your elongated stumps for arms.” Prince Enedel finished screeching, and looked over to Prince Jarvan and Henry, realizing them looking at his fault.
Henry motioned over to Prince Enedel, speaking about if last time, that I can at least manage to reach into a top position, I wouldn’t have been bound to working under one showman knight (someone who is old and parades around town) for the last year and here after. Saying that he hopes this year’s would be now his chance to prove to his father he’d spent enough in acquiring the correct lengths and practice to those nights spent in track; although a dent into his father’s checking, he would say he can pay it back in a years time when he joins the cavalry.
Henry was a commoner that Prince Jarvan had grown accustomed to in school. The boy’s first played when one was in practicing for a routine spar. Henry the usual porter was standing around while Jarvan mentioned he’d wish to see what he was capable of; and after a match, it was clear to see Henry struggling, before long Jarvan had already won. He liked how careless Henry was with a blade at times, but mostly admired his stamina and will, despite the obvious disadvantage. Henry no longer sparred with Prince Jarvan after a certain point in their childhood, but remained as a close boy and then young man Prince Jarvan had kept around — sometimes his innocence was tugged around in this endearing friendship produced under his father’s fruiting for his King’s son. But they managed to keep in touch, despite the days of snooping around for some Royal Bread, the baker’s man always catching the racket, hiding into nosy neighbors, and them always running from the man who had no face searching have since been gone.
“Ask what have you tacked on for your Marcuss’ horse or in general now more commonly?” Henry asked.
“Fourty locks of rein, not too long, nor should be catapulting me into another man’s arse.” Prince Jarvan asked, “Either your general reins or your lucky vessels.” he showed him a unique tool they both had in their possession. While getting up to the saddle’s swell and swinging one leg over the top of Marticuss, signaling to the nearby boy.
A voice was heard echoing across the field “Rider’s if you’d rank!” repeating several times. While a near hundred horses commanded by their squires and jockey’s master all agreed to bring themselves to the starting point. They drove around the circular dirt field, off in this thermometer shape. Across them was a thin hundred yard line drawn perpendicular to the sought out race track.
Audiences were drawn across an embedded verdant, as the children hid, and small hares were aggressing onto much smaller children, tucked with their feet in the mud and bellies and noses leveled out with the widened strip of turf. Beneath them were the stores, stands and people sandwiching for shade. When the cloud spoofed the visible arena, and before the sun rose they caught a glimpse of horrifying cliffs that you’d joke about to the next that is where they’re climbing.
“Henry, this old toy should prove useful to our old practice!” Prince Jarvan had shown him an old braid of yarn, which was just a piece of spindled twine to look like a target dummy. When he pictured the same thing: Gosh if he’d just been so hasty this morning to the braiding of my bridle he thought off conjunction. Henry was in a conscious rush to get to the large dense space most before anyone, but he was always smoking the avenue of reputability before safety again.
Each time the rider supplied with their squire holding on, all waiting in anticipation for the race to be away. The holder of the flame ran afoot, motioning center field, then quickly ran away. A pounding of dirt loosened and shouted the throttle of long throughout hollers and drowned voices, their tone matching exquisitely with their horses own, and soon the field would be ran with his dossing.
Lost in the mist of it, like a boat sailed without a captain, he lost sight of where he was grabbing. As the queue was moving along, Prince Jarvan felt a sway in motion. Feeling this misalignment, he disembarked. And the others only can make up those precious seconds lost in the after image of the right bend to follow. When the dust settled, correctly guessing this, Prince Jarvan found himself split with the next intelligent foes; who he’d be finding himself clot together for a few miles to the first sign of incline. And the point of which we only get to imagine their dramatic terrain.
Breaking through to the edge, leaves brushed against each other’s shoulders, and being felt whip back harder into the second rider’s face. With his face full of spruce it was mostly in third Prince Jarvan would find himself. In this third group, of which he was tentatively in third space, lamely behind were following the leaders which would only be uninterrupted to begin with, lest they fell on their place. A quaint village of animals started to disrupt this live forest, and shoulder to shoulder a few men had already punched themselves into the dirt, caving in their horses skull and ending their sport.
It was the trees that were the cause of this, hemorrhaging those daunt riders, their oblong formation caught some by surprise, only in the lead pack they had the most freedom yet least succumb to their own shadow. For fear of losing out on their tenacious position, only the man left still standing all he had to lose was his ‘mansship. That did not stop a select few from riding high against the rest, they pushed out and saturated that forest. And they almost forgot who it was they should be following. Their excitement caught them into a wreck and begun to form a counter-direction.
Before it was clear, Prince Jarvan came up to a rider let loose, swishing him to an abrupt halt, his feet quickly, and daring that he was, went astray of the edge, instead a few collide and the confusion starts to attract to the opposite tied end. With limited doubts, and had suddenly a change of direct course, Prince Jarvan’s successful movements had gone futile, in no traffic direction, were others pulling into each other and neither on its same rails, this caboose driving it drew his own mind, and chose wherever it was that they were going. Too young to stop in its maturity, this momentum grew an epithet, his mind would only slow down on approaching the jungle.
A large group was becoming discharged, but from a bird’s eye view everything was disperse. With the ongoing sludge, it was hard to get through to one’s own competitor, bogged down and discovered by someone else and objectively blocking the other, one had to care for their now same struggle. Starting to see the other rider’s catch up to them, and losing on their minute advantage felt anxious to reach over and hammer one’s elbow to be first to get through to the other side. There was a sinking feeling among the rest about who had been so fast to gap them. On the other side was noiselessly coming up to a ravine. And with little room to start getting agitated, the rider’s felt what little impatience already as there was no more room for their eager feeling to get ahead.
As no man ever had to take the plunge into the mountainous rocks, to risk too greatly when there had been a chance to fall into the sounds of a river below. With the mark of steadiness to take great aim, still, there were the ones who felt the need to askew dominance when the other’s caressed. And waiting behind like the rest, Prince Jarvan fell tackly behind. Henry couldn’t resist, and he was already seen to advantage himself there. Along with Prince Enedel, the opportunity to unfold to disastrous, fortunately be told, he never slipped on its earth’s bridge, taking careful steps again that his horse’s would allow, it was neither lucky or blindful but their appetite for prominence.
Large roots agape a confine path, they swirled around the hazardous cliffs, its earth had been eroded to this meaningless place, and this was the peak of the race. There was no sun to be had showing on top of the barren rock, its exposed skin and thin ridges were clipping together. Henry already coasting along its draft, he had a tight confection and had to reach the point to become autonomous and pact. The deft closing of a solid ground, he slipped, and the compact dirt he missed his plight. Henry drew his horse to the top of its very nose, down we went and find the resident sparrows.
Inching to the very peak, as exhausting last lap to reach his favorite forest, stench formidable with each others breath now drew closer together, Henry spoke once, twice to Prince Enedel a few times. A cost that one must pay when deliberately he had gone so far up, the earth’s gravity, it would be the least for him to expect.
Henry was participating in a reluctant swing of saddle with Prince Enedel. The time to duck beneath a lack of understanding of when to take the hint caught him preoccupied, but a branch fell too great into Henry’s head and tripped him to the sound of alarm — laying here where the sun first swept and created its beautiful marbling, scouting for any fresh new ground. A felt feeling was ripped away by his torso, and he thought to not have noticed the sound of crunching bones was displacing enough, when he went to get up his legs wouldn’t go, and the moist hand he drew trapped beneath felt going back to where it felt safe and neat. Crutching himself wishing for the day to begin again. Crumbling in his grasp were a stitched feeling of his target dummy, hidden from the sky.
Henry’s stomach slashed across an upturned thick bone leftover from a desecrate Husk. His horse had managed to cave its torso between his lumbar and in tumbled branches that lay across a pillared rock, jostling around on its hind legs scratching his face over and over again when sloshing around. A heap of clothing now generalized the small man laying silently on the ground, sobbing as a pool of blood seemed out from under his side as he was still holding intact, a thick pooling filled the porous underground reminding him worse. Several rider’s noticed Henry shielding himself from the sight, but they decided to ride on instead.
Coming across Henry dying, had he not motioned to the nearest rider to pivot into another depression of grottoed trees, he’d have no chance in collecting Henry without running into his face. Prince Jarvan sweeping across Marticuss’ back, hearing of Henry’s groans, now on top of their Horse’s back, they quickly moved along to finish this painstaking race. Still going with a shallow muster of life to give, although with each second heave of breath that grew deeper than the last. Steam filled Henry’s jacket and woke him to the sound of his eardrums rumbling right there beside him… Prince Jarvan spotted a singular group, galloped remarkably each and every quarter second, splitting its ranks and now its former leader right behind him. The second group, of which everyone were tied, and were all in compassion of winning, had pressured Prince Jarvan, pushing him to yet another quick feet. Prince Jarvan ducked into an alcove hidden from its shade, not to prevent others from changing their course of direction; and to follow, Prince Jarvan pulled ahead and found an added second now across him and his resistance. Without any sight being lost, around the third bend, Prince Jarvan heard Henry squish out a few words from his chest, not making a clear distinction, but that was enough reason to move on and finish as fast as first. Now the race was only two-thirds of the way complete at this point, in the front running, Prince Enedel was surpassing the lead, no one but a second and third rider were close behind to one another.
In the clear best line to winning the race; he had not noticed his horse was dredging along quite unwilling, whether his horse’s footing was loose or an improper guide; Prince Enedel gained on when he did not need to, but desperately leveraged his position high as he could go. Still, from the heavily wooded area, a straight stretch between a light field, and then one final road to the finish line. Two riders closer behind clobbered to one another, the other coming off as jaded and running a disastrous muck with the man. Spouting words in his sweating opposition, that his shirt tie was going to choke him if he doesn’t stop. After this insincere distraction, led off ahead of him, now the rider was pulling ahead and catching up to Prince Enedel. Seeing this, he leaped to a gallop, hammering his horse towards the finish line, guided by his very same greed that enraptured him, he didn’t see his horse that had really been starting to lose footing, and after, missing the last jump into a ditch.
Now his quail, immaculate face and matching clothing, with the second rider and behind in third place finishing in first and second. When wiping off the mud from his standout jacket, his atrocious shoes and no longer flaring pants, turning around he almost pulverized his face himself into the torso of a jumping horse. The dirt around his cheeks exaggerated the agony caught by his surprise to see Prince Jarvan had almost impaled him. He did not notice Henry laying on Marticuss’ back, but wickedly grew furious when seeing a much larger group that emerged from the forest and leading the pact was Prince Jarvan way ahead. He did manage to squeeze himself into third when Prince Jarvan was disqualified for being nowhere near the competition, and he did manage to laboriously abuse his horse, although with great difficulty to cross the finish. And as the race had now been completed, the other competitor's began to reappear, and Prince Enedel was still seething.
But Prince Jarvan kept galloping. Bystanders were surprised to see their King’s prince not just ignore the game, but leaving the competition to go elsewhere, and were quite disappointed to not see his Prince — the rest were still celebrating the victors and showering them with their amaze.
Nearby in a small village, the doctor’s house was pointed out by a gentlemen whisked away from the large crowd. Upon nearing the local doctor’s house, whom had already seen the inner tweaking’s of the village. Coming back from a regular display. And where Prince Jarvan galloped to and fro searching his house, the doctor seeing the miscellaneous act; “Yes it is me!? But where?” The doctor seeing the erratic display, but noticed a man too can not wait, he abandoned what was planned and made due to where Prince Jarvan was dropping Henry around his house; near the garden creek in his backyard; beneath laying him on a stone ground. The doctor got back to find Henry sinuously cared for by his majesty.
Doctor relinquished his pain with a droplet of black minger. He was patched up, “Not a deep cut” he said, giving another dose to the King’s heir to hold on to, saying “I wish you the safe travel, but you must be exhausted, please do not wait to get back before sundown, I can give you somewhere to rest until.” And Prince Jarvan managed to bring precious Henry back to his father’s house the next day. Before expressing like it was though his fault, “Sire (he didn’t usually call him that), our lost half of the symbol, I seemed to have dropped it, must’ve been long ways back.” Henry told him about his lost half of the target dummy in its very high peak of the race. Prince Jarvan decided on here, he would make up for lost time, he wouldn’t go back on his promise he made to his father, he would seek out Harwitch.
Hamlen’s Den
It was almost midnight, the rumors the fields missed plans, and the villagers froze elsewhere, hidden somewhere, under this unused village, were the conspires of death and toll recognized his name and screamed out from under his chin, feeling like his head clasped him back and pulled him off of his horse. It was a long night’s ride from home, but Prince Jarvan reached Harwitch, his head ached, and his horse’s muscles were extremely tight. Rem Mersalik who had owned the village never reached Demacia as he had in early March, but had gone left unnoticed for its investigators also never reached more than a floor above Edessa. Demacian soldiers lay in the opposite hoped for direction of Mersalik’s, only a few hundred yards off of him at that. The reason in arriving so late, for the occupations never sat well with Prince Jarvan, and growing pains within the Kingdom incessant from the Eastern front, and whether he decided to not go back on his father’s wishes or drew more directly tied from an opposition to him. When he got back he was in witness to his father being murdered. Before leaving all he saw was their letters and unmoved chairs.
August 25, sometime before June
Before I ask for you to go to your entitlements, take with extra precaution that your ordinary may begin his regular duties, and that of, he is not going to single out any ordinary old man but extinguish that irrevocable tension that Kingdom now exhibits. We are searching for a female, begin with a name of which is Shore and belongs to Harwitch more. I tried to find a way to ensure passage across the mountains, and you will see to it that I watch over its tower on High Silvermere, where to begin the duties I prescribed at, we are leaving Harwitch and joining the last parade this May. The last time we were seen was mid March and he was dealt with quite irresponsibly. Find out who else knew about this incursion, and that anyone else is following its trail. King is leaving the golden sanctum and we are to rejoice in his dumbfounded conscription.
Do leave with iridescence, and do hold highly to the order of which is presented, I will speak highly of him, through, and through with it his astonishingly admired. I’m speaking that of our King, an outspoken demon from the void, he has lost all resemblance to his former self. Imaginative work for such newfound laws, conscriptions, needless suffering, questions to those that impose, and most gentlemanly his son, we take his letter and drop it, for that others shall see. We are evoked into the dreamy process, above all else, we seek forth question onto thee to those who not oppose, but for it is all in the nature of our founded pillar’s.
And that he can’t be trusted! Hide your insurgents! Go until the he livid thieves thy name, upheld onto them the veracity he speaks! I show you, that our futures will not stain but the cause will near be in vain, and that the blood streaks across this momentous reality in which I show to you! I am not one for responsiveness questions, not unlike the foundation upheld is it the tapestry, truth be told, lies! When the screams do appear weak.
And when in the future they do appear to seek for more pain, war, agony, we will be waiting in the streets. For more rebellious do the fortunes tell of what is unseen. The next fabled nation has is its treachery, notable and courageous. Suddenly submerged with another soul inside of him, will suddenly awoke. The porcelain skin this exposed lovable kin, Prince Jarvan IV now King Jarvan the last to have recognized he was blind and was very weak.
_
His prickly hairs sparked inside of his nose. Exclaiming that what it is that you have done to our Kingdom. Why is it that I must speak with you on such claims? Your highness all might I inhibit you, you are not a generous King, and my feeble fingers would like to unravel onto you that kind harm you do onto me. Why is it that you must contribute to our solemn harm, that of no which harm has been done. Why is it you speak to me as if I was the dun? Hush, say no more I level you with this, come to me, we end it quick. Prince Jarvan was witness to the such excruciating pain leave, escape through that window, he must catch. Twirl of sour skin and putrid muscle clamping from its grip. But the barrels fell too greater he caught his dad in latch. Why is it that I must abolish such shame now, has fed into my own, why father, why must it be now to sorrow the hunger you’ve left, onto me I do not know, goodbye father.
Notes
- This is not a new champion, nor is it a replacement for Jarvan IV that already exists in the game, but a nemesis.
- Jarvan doesn’t have a Gauge Bonus when an ability is altered under his ultimate. If it becomes altered, the Q is just a knockup without even touching a flag. If it contacts a flag as an altered ability, the knockups overlap. The flag/E will turn into a larger slow upon being altered, the W, along with the E save on animations, for the W it will end up additionally adding the mark. Jarvan simply does not have his darkin Cull passive/gauge at all when using Hope.
- By being altered, or effects under ultimate, Jarvan must have reached level 11, then he must use 2 vanilla abilities, the 3rd ability becomes a darkin one, repeating this process.
- Despite my visual representations, the darkin Q/Reduction’s effective range is the same whether it’s using its Gauge Bonus or not.
- Under the ultimate, otherwise known as Hope. Jarvan’s previous known passive, Military Cadence, is not activating as a darkin ability and does not cause any rifts to appear, unlike his other three basic abilities activatable, like Q, W, and E.
- Jarvan’s using his pre-darkin abilities for 30 seconds and gains up to 25% damage reduction for its duration. It’s not permanent damage reduction.
- The very large circle specified at level 16 means once the ultimate duration is over, and Jarvan is back to his darkin abilities. Not meant to be disrupted as Jarvan still clutches to what remains.
- The CC chain is to refrain from using auto attacks and lead with your abilities, otherwise attack to reach the Gauge Bonus up to 3 auto attacks; use E while it charges up its portal-ability, Q to instantly knockup, W to add further burst damage, then the previous E will seamlessly also fear the enemies further into you as the previous Q also must have had a pull to it. Use an ultimate to refresh and add 6 abilities to the total combo.
- You can hold from leveling your ultimate for as many levels you like, to wait until your target damage reduction, this is a part of its strategy.
- Jarvan should exhibit an entire “gravitating to his irksome, fighting on his terms” feeling.
- His leveling mechanic, and the lack of freedom, although it should make you feel pure every new game, not a sense of control, but a miniscule story to unfold since level 1.
Summary
Jarvan, The Fallen, has a restricted way to level up his abilities, the player or the viewer can appear through a glass eye and still, feel like controlling this one of story. Through heartache, hardship, feeling unprepared, or coming through on top of it all with supreme leadership, King Jarvan IV, denounced to his fallen, a darkin version of his future self; what is to become of him, his lack of living family, all the unprecedented lies, truths too well to become of him; Jarvan, lack of the title, a bastardized version, his abilities should show this. He wants the battle to be fought only by what he perceives achievable, he is a challenging, self-absorbed, making sure to control everything he must before he lacks the ability. Without a little hope, there is nothing that can get through to him, he is on his own damned path, and here I show: Jarvan, The Fallen, let the dark nature overwhelm them who have too much pride to give but too little strength to overcome their weakness.
Home is no longer looking safe…
