Biography[]
Tryndamere came into the world knowing only the harshness of survival, for the frozen steppes where his clan made their home never truly thawed. Though they praised all the Freljord's old gods, as well as the Cult of the Three, they prayed most often to a spirit-deity known to ravage the tundra—a hearty and unkillable 
tusklord. Since the raw materials required for armor were scarce, the clan instead put its resources toward the forging of great blades, inspired by their god's ivory canines.
The stamina and dueling prowess of Tryndamere's people became legendary. They were able to fend off other raiding tribes, slay the great beasts of the mountains, and repel 
Noxians encroaching to the south. Tryndamere himself grew to be a brash and formidable warrior, but it wasn't until a particularly cruel midwinter night that his strength was truly tested. An unusual storm swept in from the east, bringing with it an icy darkness, and a towering, 
horned figure silhouetted against the full moon.
Some in the clan knelt, believing that their boar-god stood among them. This creature dripped with ancient magic, true enough, but he was not of the Freljord... and those that knelt were the first to die.
Tryndamere looked on in horror. He could feel unhinged brutality rising in his heart at the sight of the invader's cruel, living sword. Whether taken by 
bloodlust or some other madness, Tryndamere raised his own blade, and let out a 
defiant roar.
The dark figure swatted him aside like an insect.
Tryndamere lay surrounded by the dead, in snow soaked almost black with blood. He drew what he thought would be his last breaths as the creature approached and spoke. Tryndamere tried to hold onto the strange, archaic words, but as his life force slipped away, it was the thing's laughter that burned itself into the young warrior's memory.
For Tryndamere did not die that night. He was 
revived by a rage unlike anything he had ever experienced. He looked to the eastern horizon, intent on avenging not only the destruction of his clan, but the desecration of his own martial pride.
However, retribution was not what the steppes offered him. There were survivors, and they would not be long for this world if Tryndamere could not find others to shelter them. There were Noxians to the south, Frostguard to the north, and the dark figure had come from the east. To the west, it was said that some tribes were gathering before the supposed reincarnation of Avarosa—once, he might have dismissed such fanciful rumors, but now he knew this was his only recourse.
Tryndamere and the remnants of his people arrived in the valley as little more than beggars. The young warrior was determined to show his clan's worth, and win them the Avarosan leader's protection so that he could return to thoughts of revenge. Brandishing his tusked sword, he did what came naturally, and challenged others to duels. Holding the image of the dark figure and its echoing laughter in his mind, Tryndamere quickly bested anyone who stepped forward.
His singular fury was deeply unsettling to the Avarosans. The northern warriors, too, noted his rapid healing between bouts—unlike the Iceborn that walked among them, the more Tryndamere gave in to his rage, the more quickly his body healed. Many suspected he and his clan practiced strange and unnatural magics, and so Tryndamere's plan to prove his worth was now endangering the wider acceptance of his people.
But not all of the Avarosans had turned against him. Their warmother, 
Ashe, was looking to strengthen her position with a political marriage... to someone who could face down the endless challengers for her hand, and to her rule. Seeing an opportunity in the handsome barbarian, she pledged to take in his clan as Avarosans, if Tryndamere became her first and only bloodsworn.
As he spent more time in Ashe's company, he began to believe what others had whispered—that she was indeed the divine reincarnation of Avarosa herself. His rage found temperance in her thoughtful leadership, and a genuine affection grew between them.
Even so, serving as Ashe's champion, Tryndamere now looks to an uncertain future. The barbarian king can see war brewing all too clearly on the Freljord's horizon, yet he still thirsts for his own, personal vengeance, and begins to wonder if his predestined fate might not be at his queen's side after all...
Change log[]
| The Barbarian King | |
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 MISSING
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Updated to the current version. |
| MISSING
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Updated to remove references to the Institute of War.
 dark figure that next stepped forth. He wielded a cruel, living sword, and inspired an unhinged bloodlust in the invaders with his unearthly magic. Tryndamere's tribe was overrun within moments. With no hope of defeating the enigmatic being, Tryndamere threw himself at certain death. The dark figure swatted him aside, mortally wounding the young barbarian.
Tryndamere saw death and destruction engulf his home as his life slipped away. No one was left standing - only the screams of the dying remained. Unable to surrender to death, Tryndamere gave in fully to his wrath. His blood boiled and his anger consumed him, banishing his mortality. He staggered to his feet - barely able to take hold of his sword - steeling himself for the decisive confrontation with the shadowy being. But the dark figure did not even lift his blade, and instead gave Tryndamere a knowing smile as he withdrew into the shadows. That was the last time the barbarian ever saw his nemesis. A man robbed of his home and his people, Tryndamere wandered across the Freljord for years, vowing to forge himself into a brutal instrument of revenge. He visited all the tribes in the frozen wastes, besting each of their warriors until there were none left to challenge. In doing so, he mastered the barbarian ways of war and harnessed his anger as a force to be reckoned with. With sword in hand and rage in his heart, he is now on an undying quest for vengeance against the one who destroyed the life he once knew. |
| MISSING
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Fourth version.
 There are those who choose not to live in one of the great city-states of Valoran. Instead, they live in remote locales, often as part of a nomad or barbarian tribe. While perils abound in these untamed lands, there is also great freedom in being removed from the politics of Valoran. Tryndamere was born a member of one of these barbarian tribes in northern Valoran. Even as a young boy, it was obvious that he would grow in martial prowess to become one of his clan's greatest warriors. However, as his clan moved south between the Howling Marsh and the Ironspike Mountains, they came across strangers in black garb, brandishing symbols of a beast's skull. Despite Tryndamere's pleas, his elder went out to speak with the strangers; they cut him down mercilessly. From there, they began to slaughter every man, woman, and child in the clan. Tryndamere, the sole survivor, hid under the bodies of his dead parents. Upon their bloodied corpses, he swore eternal vengeance on those who took his people from him - the assassins of Noxus. To train himself, Tryndamere voluntarily served under all the great chieftains of the barbarian tribes, learning the ways of the barbarian warrior. Not only did this make him the man he needed to become in order to exact his revenge, it has also garnered him friends and allies among the most powerful barbarian leaders of Valoran. This recently allowed him to unite the barbarians into a single, powerful force - all under his command. Now he has joined the League of Legends to earn enough influence to find a permanent home for his people... and to slake his rage on the champions of his hated foes. |
| Prior to V1.0.0.116 | Third version.
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Second version.
 It was said that when this child was born, it would signal the beginning of a new era. It was said that the barbarian tribes would rise up, and under the banner of a serpent-shaped rune, they would rule the world. When that child was born, the barbarian nations rejoiced. They feasted and drank and danced. And when they finished, they donned their skins, lifted their swords, and they flooded out of the flats to begin an onslaught that once again plunged the world into war. The child, named Tryndamere, became a formidable warrior. And now, here at the Institute of War, he is prepared to unleash his barbaric strength and take his place atop the world. |
| Alpha Week 6 (March 25th, 2009) | Original version.
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