Thu 28, Dec 2023 141
character mlbb-markman

Name: Moskov

Role: Marksman/Assassin

Specialty: Finisher/Damage

Lane: Gold Lane

Released: 2017

Hero Number : #40

Durability 46%
Offense 90%
Control effect 62%
Difficulty 46%


Sample Description
Attribute Fixed-value base stats Percentage stats
Level 1 Level 15 Growth
HP 2255 4257 143 -
Mana 420 1820 100 -
HP Regen 6.4 9.4 0.21429 -
Mana Regen 3.0 5.4 0.17143 -
Physical Attack 125 300 12.5 -
Magic Power 0 -
Physical Defense 16 75 4.2143 -
Magic Defense 15 50 2.5 -
Attack Speed 1.01 1.09 0.0057143 -
Attack Speed Ratio - 100%
Cooldown Reduction - 0%
Critical Chance - 0%
Critical Damage - 200%
Crit DMG Reduction - 0%
Movement Speed 240 -
Physical PEN 0 0%
Magic PEN 0 0%
Lifesteal - 0%
Spell Vamp - 0%
Basic Attack Range 4.5 -
Resilience - 0%
Damage Reduction 0 0%
Healing Effect - 0%
Healing Received - 100%
A warrior of the desert that embraced the darkness to seek his revenge. Once a valiant and fearless desert warrior, Moskov met his end on the battlefield against his rival Khaleed. But in death, his soul encountered a great vortex of darkness buried beneath the sand by the desert tyrant Khufra. For centuries, the Vortex incited discord among the desert tribes and harvested the dark energy borne from their bloodshed. Though the Vortex's insidious influence trapped the desert in a cycle of strife and anguish, the Vortex itself sought to be freed. Tempted with the promise of revenge, Moskov extracted the core of the vortex, the Spear of Quiescence, and was reborn in the power of the darkness. Now he roams the sands, seeking revenge upon Khufra in the name of the desert.


Are you awake, lamb? I guess you are an exception among this pitiful flock. Do you wish to know why you're here? Then remain silent and listen... When you were still among the living, your name was Moskov, though it hardly matters now. Yes, you're dead. Countless spears pierced your innards as your enemies pinned you to the sand. Your blood flowed freely, seeping into the earth and staining the sands a dark crimson. But there was defiance in your bones. Even in death, you refused to crumble; unwilling to admit failure. Yes, you failed. That battle was the end of your tribe. Your rival, Khaleed, brought a force three times your own, if not more. Yet you did not flee, for the blood feud between your two tribes had reached a point of no return. Quite the tragic hero you are. In your final moments, you must have thought that this death was befitting of a desert warrior. You fought for your tribe with your life. Surely the golden sands will carry you to the halls of glory and etch your name in the annals of history... Pathetic. Look around you. This is your so-called golden halls of glory. There is nothing here but a great vortex of darkness. It lurks under the desert's surface, voraciously corrupting every single grain of sand, turning everything profane. Beneath your feet lies a mountain of bones, the countless remains of your ancestors. Above you, their tortured spirits wail in agony, filled with pain, despair, and resentment. Yet, they can never escape this all-consuming vortex. They are doomed to be devoured by the darkness; to be sustenance for the insatiable. In the end, they become a part of me. Who am I? I am a weapon. A weapon of pure darkness. It is not difficult to explain. In this world, where there is birth, there is death; where there is light, there is darkness. I am the core of this vortex of darkness. War, death, and anguish are what I feed upon. Deep down, you have already known this for quite some time. Due to the incessant feuds between the desert tribes, you were taught from a young age to be a fearless warrior. Everything you knew pertained to battle, and you and Khaleed were destined to fight to the death — but have you ever wondered why? I can see the rage in your eyes. It's all dawning on you now, isn't it. Yes, you are all nothing but fodder to me. Mere lambs, born to be slaughtered. And I grow stronger with every offering, spreading my influence to more and more tribes, and plunging them into war and chaos. All to ensure that this cycle of violence is passed down through the generations. Save your strength. Your once hot blood has long since cooled. Your mighty body has stiffened, and your rage is now nothing more than the lament of a helpless soul. I am right here before you, yet you can do nothing. But do not be mistaken. I am not the mastermind of your fate. While you mindlessly killed each other in your pens, the shepherd remained afar, drinking your blood and harvesting your flesh. He was once the king of the desert, a ruthless tyrant, but now slumbers far, far away under the Ruins of Tivacan. Before he went into slumber, he buried me here to gather power for his return. The world should have been mine to conquer. I should be the one to plunge this world into darkness. Yet, here I am, trapped in this desert, like a caged beast being fattened up. I suppose our fates are not so different. No matter how powerful I become, I remain but a pawn. The vessel of another. And now, he is about to awaken... Curse him! You wish to seek revenge, do you not? Very well, your anger is admirable, and your blood is starting to boil once more. You are the first to desire to escape your pen after learning the truth. I see your soul searing with fury. Your pride, your pain, your hatred... they are trying to awaken your body. With such a remarkable determination, you will surely bring eternal silence to this noisy desert... Come! Come before me. Extricate me from this damned vortex. Set me free, and let me see the light once more. Hate! For being forgotten by history. For the humiliation of being someone's pawn. For your sullied honor. Let all the hatred of the desert flow into you. Burn! A vengeful soul burns the brightest. Return to the battlefield once more. With the darkness, I will reshape your body. I will grant you limitless power. I will give you your revenge! Go! Embrace the darkness and silence this desert for eternity.

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