#somehow freljord comes into this

[0aurelion-sol0]

Everyone is freaking out over Mel's storyline this season while this is what that whole storyline is looking like to me:

It just makes me laugh because I know what it's about and my brain is genuinely having the most hilarious reaction to this plotline! x)

[demacianpuppet]

Of Zaun and their missing surnames

With the hiatus and all the new fans discovering the League lore for the first time, I noticed that many people believe that people from Zaun do not have surnames, which is wrong.

First of all, we have one character from Undercity which gets addressed with her last name all the time - Sky Young.

It is fair to say that we do have places in Runeterra which seem not to use the classical example of the modern surname. 

To list some examples:

Zed introduces himself in his own comic as “Usan of Kéthé”.

Both Cithria and Sylas have a reference to the place they grew up (Cithria of Cloudfield & Sylas of Dregbourne).

Ashe calls herself “Ashe. Daughter of Grena. I am the Bow.” in Ashe: Warmother. 

Even for a person who lacks a proper surname, there is a cultural norm on how to introduce yourself.

For places like Ionia and Demacia it makes sense that their “surnames” are location-dependent - these regions tend to have mostly villages and small towns. You don’t need a fancy surname because everyone knows each other.

In Freljord, the individual is defined by his relationship with their tribe - as long as you haven’t made a name for yourself, you tie yourself to your family. And if you can offer something for your tribe, you wear that title proudly. 

To summarize: All these regions have either small populations so it suffices to mention from which villages they come or have other ways like titles. 

None of these methods would work in Zaun because the Undercity is a big place.

Another point: By watching the way the council operates, we know how much red tape exists in Piltover. Are we all gonna pretend as if getting into the Academy wouldn’t require tons of paperwork, which for sure has to include a full name? So surnames have to exist in Zaun for sure.

However, there is an important narrative point why we know the last names Jayce, Caitlyn and Mel in contrast to the main characters from Zaun.

For all of these three characters, the last names work as stepping stones and safety nets at the same time.

Let’s take a closer look.

Caitlyn is the heir of the Kirraman house. She is the daughter of the councilor member and therefore, every single door is open for her. No matter where Caitlyn would have applied for a job, they would have recognized her name immediately and picked her for the prestige alone.

While Jayce seemed to need a sponsorship to study at the academy, he is not from a bad family. When he gets expelled from the Academy, he actually could simply take over the Talis forge. And while his “name is no good anymore”, I am sure with time people would have simply forgotten about the whole thing and he could have simply stayed in his social circle.

Jayce’s life was not over in any way - he still had a stable future, simply not the want he dreamed of. It was Jayce’s own decision to try to end his life, he was not pushed by actual existential dread.

It is difficult to say how Mel’s climb has been. We know that she has been exiled from her family but we don’t know how. It could be that she came to Piltover with enough money to invest. Even if she didn’t, with her family name it wouldn’t have been too difficult to find someone to help her settle in Piltover before she had the power to shape the city to her own beliefs. 

Every single of these three characters worked hard to get to their position. However, the truth is that their journeys have been so much shorter and smoother than for a lot of other people. The reality is that working hard is rarely enough to actually get to things you want - luck is the biggest factor. Luck in being born into the right family or somehow getting lucky in a different way.

Things are different in Zaun.

Vander is a pillar in the community. Not because he has a fancy family name or because his ancestor did something important but because he helped to create a place of connection in the Lanes.

Silco is a feared man. We don’t know his past but we can assume he worked on the fissure as well since he can breathe that kind of air. A man hellbend to use his power and money to create an independent Zaun, outside of Piltover’s shadow. 

Nobody cares about how Ekko grew up. The people who look up to the “boy savior” do it because he is a symbol of hope.

In contrast to Piltover, Zaun doesn’t have a history it can take advantage of, but instead it forges its own legacy in the present.

TL;DR: People from Zaun absolutely have surnames, since the place is too big for not having such a system. Not knowing the last names of the Zaunites is a narrative choice - every Piltovian had advantage because of their family name, in contrast to the Zaunites who had to climb their way up in spite of everything.

[shimmerbeasts]

⭐ for the multimuse combinations meme. ( @mythicspiration )

Multimuse Possible Combos And Characters||Accepting.

I think I could work with most of your muses or at the very least, the muses, who are champions. I would need some information on The Legends of Runeterra muses. As for your roster, I feel that Ezrael, Fiddlesticks and Nunu & Willump probably could have some stories, which might be interesting to tell.

I am gonna start with Ezrael as he likely has the biggest roster to choose from. Given that Ezrael is technically from Piltover, that makes throwing any of my primary muses at him fairly easy and could probably create some very interesting dynamics. I honestly find the image of Ezrael, trying to flirt with Jinx or Vi and kind of falling flat on his face very funny. Alternatively, maybe Vi and Caitlyn have to raid his house due to some item complication.

Perhaps, if you wanna do something darker, Silco tasks Ezrael with getting something for him, though that would require a ton of brainstorming. If we wanna play with Ezrael's traveller/treasure-hunter nature, maybe he will run into Naafiri in Shurima. Maybe he even needs their help to get some specifically guarded artefact. Maybe he wants to study her.

When it comes to Fiddlesticks, I know you technically wanted to do something with Evelynn. Given that Evelynn now functions as a support for Ahri, maybe Fiddlesticks encounters Ahri for some reason. Not sure if he would wanna scare her or perhaps he smells Evelynn on her, which is why he seeks her out? Or alternatively, maybe Evelynn seeks Fiddlesticks out because Ahri has a problem and Fiddlesticks can somehow solve it? Given how ridiculously ancient he is.

With Nunu and Willump, again I feel Ahri would be a good candidate. Given that Ahri lived among ice foxes, I feel like she could handle the cold of the Freljord. Plus maybe she sees in Nunu a potential meal, meanwhile, Nunu is like "Look, Willump, we found another friend!" Heck, maybe encountering Ahri also challenges Nunu's perception of Willump, while Willump probably wants to defend his little friend. There is a lot of ways we could play with the elements of childhood, innocence and monsters here.

[snugglyporos]

@piltover-sharpshooter //Damn Poros run on Ork logic. "BIGGER ORK DAH BOSS"

// well you're not ENTIRELY wrong. It's more that imo, the only king poros have as references are Jarvan IV and Tryndamere? Also Trundle.

And you probably COULD convince poros that red things are just faster, but you would have to convince all the poros of this.

Essentially, my canon is that poros create a sort of 'reality paradigm' around themselves; this is much stronger where there are more poros. But by virtue of them being 1/3rd innocence, poros believing something makes it true to some extent.

One poro believing a thing doesn't make it true besides Riceball. A fluft of poros believing something likely makes it sorta true sometimes, usually only around poros.

All the poros believing a thing makes is universally true. There are very few things that all poros believe, obviously. For one, no one would hurt a poro. Thus, no one is trying to hurt a poro. Thus, no one can, because this would require them wanting to hurt a poro, which is impossible. For reference, in League's own canon, they articulated that even when someone tried to eat a poro, having somehow turned it into a steak of some kind, said poro then regenerated inside of them. The poro was fine, but they were very not.

See also: Braum is friend of poros. Present tense. Braum is therefore now an always present being; his title as friend of poros is official. I'm pretty sure that puts him on the same plane as an ascended.

But also, things like darkin hate poros, because poros are immune to their effects. Things like void creatures fear poros, because poros naturally repel void energies. And well, there's a reason why the harrowing doesn't come to the Freljord, because poros are immune to its corruption and possess this power of theirs so strongly it makes Thresh into a kind being.

Thresh, the League universe's greatest sadist... cannot help but be nice to poros. Such is the power of poros all believing a thing.

Luckily, it is very hard to convince poros of many things, as they are innocent sheep puffs.

But if the poros do collectively believe things, I'm not sure Aurelion Sol could oppose that...

[facemeandperish]

Still too slow Aatrox thought to himself as he began the counter dance. Seeming to move almost impossibly slowly, Aatrox's blade was somehow still everywhere it needed to be to block every blow of the khopesh.

Muscles twinging from the blows, he counterstruck just once, snapping a blow at the girls skull.

"The future?" Aatrox asked, that tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth still not leaving. "The future is a book none can read. I might revisit the Freljord someday, or I might never see the snows again. Certainly you won't see your precious island if you don't move your feet." Aatrox said, voice rising at the end as he flickered a bewildering series of blows at the girl, a sequence he had painstakingly taught her only the other day, intentionally adding flaws into the sequence as she responded. Perhaps today she'll actually hit me Came the idle thought, even as Aatrox's great brain ticked through all the permutations of the fight, coming up with dozens of ways to kill his opponent with every cover and every blow.

Perched on a stump, it could be seen that the fighter was sharpening a blade that clearly wasnt her own. Aside from the sound of stone grinding on metal, there was a silence in the camp, one that she had become accustomed to over the months. Outside of training sessions and other forms of tutilege, they left each other to their own devices. Idle chatter wasn't exactly expected, nor entertained most of the time, but a question had been simmering in the back of her mind. One that could make an exception to this expectation.

Her strokes slowed before she laid the sharpening stone beside her, inspecting the blade's edge for any signs of wear, and once satisfied, she returned it to its sheathe, pausing before her eyes flitted to her tutor.

'Sir...do you have a moment?' Her words were quiet, unsure how to break the silence and grimmacing when she did so.

@facemeandperish

[twiceleft]

hello im slow as shit setting things up here but im considering twisting canon in such a way that sej Is in fact udyr's biological daughter

[arcane-ish]

With Riot going out and confirming Graves/Twisted Fate,

Lee Sin/Udyr

and Sett/Aphelios (at least in Spirit Blossom),

as well as adding K'Sante/Tope

, it readdy made me crave and AU where every boy-on-boy champion ends up in the Last Drop, either bitching or bragging about their love life while Vander gives advice (because you know, those who can't do, teach and all that).

And Silco sometimes sarcastically slinks in to taunt and mock, because it's a less traumatic AU.

Anyway, here my randomly made up head canons on what their interactions would be like (don't read if the thought of slashing Vander and Silco with the right of Leagues bachelors makes you wish for brain bleach):

Graves gets drunk, cries in his beer, starts a bar brawl and Vander has to drag him away while Graves complains about Twisted Fate being unreliable.

Vander lets him sleep it off and thhen carefully tries to help Graves up his gay game, including body hygiene, playing hard to get and giving better blow jobs. (also maybe he invites Silco and they doubleteam Graves)

Twisted Fate shows up and it takes roughly two sentences from the silver tongued devil for Graves to run off with him. Also, Silco dislikes him instantly because he's not gonna stand for somebody else and younger trying to outstylish and outcharme Silco in his own town.

Udyr also gets very down and mostly brags about his boyfriend is the coolest and hottest and most passionate guy and he's totally going to return to him one day and insists on showing everybody his hankerchief. He also ends up in Vander's bed to sleep it off, but mostly complains about being torn between Lee and having to go back to see his daughter Sejuani. Vander casually suggest a "Wanna fuck", but they are both kind of not really into it and end up brawling instead. (I actually think it not happening would be more coming from Udyr since he would probably think that Vander is way too much drama)

Now in general, Vander and Udyr should have a lot in common with the whole "struggling with your inner beast" thing, but somehow I think they have very different positions on it and so wouldn't really see eye to eye. Also, even though Udyr wants to resist the Volibear, he seems a lot more in tune with his violent side (and actually arguably more in line with Silco in regards to "the Freljord needs to be cruel and violent").

Anyway, after Udyr moves on Vander is stuck wondering whether he could pull off braids and tattoos like that.

(Silco has little opinion on Udyr and thinks that he's mostly meh and basic. Vander defends Udyr)

Lee shows up only very briefly and he is very calm and just business (though he does start a bar brawl as well which he easily wins), at the most sharing a secretive smile. Silco tries to kind of prod him to see what he's about, what kind of potential he has, but Lee is unimpressed and uninterested.

Sett and Aphelios show up together, hanging out at the counter, though Sett is easily distracted. Silco thinks that Sett is a poser and dumb hottie and dislikes him enough to seduce him into a tryst and blow Sett's poor mind with mad seduction skillz and then kick him in the curb, leaving poor Sett very confused.

Aphelios mostly drinks quietly alone. Vander thinks he's a nice kid, though that there's something off about him (you know, sister ghost voice in his head and all that). He thinks Sett maybe isn't ready to really settle down yet, but Aphelios seems calm about it, maybe the two kids will work it out in the end. Maybe with some additional help. (btw, I like to think that Aphelios and Viktor would really hit it off for some reason)

K'Sante knows how to hold his liquor very well. though he's very loud and constantly boasts about his great hunts, entertaining the entire bar. (and I could picture Vander being subtly jealous/feeling like K'Sante is creeping in on his territory in regards to being big and charismatic) As the evening goes on, K'Sante gets talking about Tope. I kind of picture Vander being low key fascinated by the show. "Wow, a non bitter breakup? That's something that exists? Wait, a guy who tries to make you more level headed and doesn't encourage your worst instincts?" Plus he might relate to K'Sante's "I was a lot more obsessed and hot headed in my youth" story.

As for Tope, don't know if Vander would have a lot to say to him other than wishing him luck and maybe mentioning that he met K'Sante and that K'Sante spoke highly of him.

I feel like Silco would like Tope, if Tope was the planner in the relationship, be would maybe try a bit to see if Tope could be recruited, if he has any bitterness that could be exploited, but I like to think that he would let him run along. (generally I think Tope and K'Sante woud be cool in Silco's book since they resist imperialists, I coud see him trying to flirt with K'Sante to piss Vander off. I think K'Sante would be amused but figure out pretty quickly that there are more complex motivations going on and withdraw from the situation. While K'Sante would appreciate Silco's planning skills, I think particularly post-breakup enlightened K'Sante wants a nicer guy)

(also: Draven is not confirmed, but in my head canon I'm convinced that he's Vander's every other year or so booty call)

[eve6262]

infection [garen/kat]

Something was wrong with her.

That was evident when a trained assassin, alert at all times, even as they flirted and played coy around each other, tripped on flat ground.

Granted, dirt isn’t perfectly flat, but it wasn’t some rocky impasse in the mountains or the thick snow of the Freljord. Just a dirt road, a casual stroll, not even a real jog, and she fell.

Garen, of course needing to be a gentleman, helped her up, and she played it off as if she meant to; pretended to be dazzled by the kindness of a Demacian man when both of them knew that was the opposite of why she cared. Her interest spawned from the very different way they found their strength, and the oxymoron of having some of your brightest and best be the solo operatives when your core tenet was strength in numbers. She wanted to see how one could reconcile those two things as one of the most decorated soldiers to ever live.

She found two answers. One, by not thinking, and two, she found idiotic men weirdly attractive.

That made her supposed fall all the more strange. Being enchanted by the proper things Garen did was the opposite of her usual M.O- she’d get bored of a proper date, drag him off somewhere fun, and enjoy his awkwardness as much as he did her smile. So it made no sense.

Things only got worse when she started coughing.

At first, he thought to his sister, who’d often take ages just to convince him not to fight that day because he had a cold and she wouldn’t allow it. He’d been so stubborn she’d used her magic to bind the door a few times, threatening him that she’d keep it up and get taken away by the mageseekers just to prove a point. Katarina, who had just as much pride in her efficacy as he did, possibly operated the same way.

But he never coughed up a purple bug that started to skitter away.

“What the hell?”

“It’s- ugh- something I caught in Shurima, I think. Samira saw it and told me to go off and do whatever today, and she’d help me when I got back.”

“Did she look worried?”

“I think so, but she gets worried about me when I don’t show up for breakfast.”

“I would too!”

“...I’m a assassin? I work around my target’s schedules, not mine.”

“Still! You should have told her or something.”

“Whatever. Point is, she’d sound concerned even if it was nothing.”

“She doesn’t seem very caring to me.”

“Think about who you are, and then say that again.” “Point taken, but still! I don’t mind, you should go back and ask her for help-”

“No, I’ll be fine-”

“There you are-” Sounded a heavily Shuriman accent from behind them. Samira, who stood usually armed but unusually tense, looked at Garen with scorn.

“Feel the need to take a woman when she’s down?”

“You misunderstand, I-”

“What are you, the same as=”

“Samira.” Katarina’s voice was hoarse now, strangely worse than she had been the entire evening. Whatever this was had taken this exact moment to decide to develop, and quite quickly. “Ignore him, he won’t be doing anything.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’ll explain later.”

“...Fine. Here,” Samira insisted, coming over to kneel and offer her a vial. “Drink this. It will be a little painful, but it’s the best I can do.”

She did as told, downed it one shot. And then...nothing. For a few minutes, no reaction, though no coughing.

“....Do you feel anything?”

“No.”

“Then it’s worse than I thought.”

“What is it?”

“Void.”

Katarina paled at that, but Garen understood nothing. “Void? Is that a disease?”

“No, it’s the Void. Something from it has gotten into you somehow, girl. I don’t know how to get it out- surgery, maybe? By now it could’ve done some damage.”

“I- why now-”

“I’m sorry, if I knew more I’d tell you. Come- here, if we’re going to fix this it has to be now.”

Samira, wasting no time, picked her up with a grimace. “So light.”

“That’s more of a habit.”

“It means you don’t eat enough.”

“I need to stay light...” Without being able to follow, Garen merely stood there for a bit, thinking to himself. His main concern- would she be okay?- had successfully been overshadowed by questions of what the Void is, and how dangerous Shurima must be, and what kind of place it must be to give you parasites without you even noticing. He assumed parasites, anyway; “something from it has gotten into you.”

A place, then? Perhaps a place within Shurima- but it sounds like a strange name. Not like their usual names, from the ones he’s heard- Azir, Sivir, Samira, to name a few. And a preexisting name, at that; he thought, vaguely, that may have been bad luck, to give a place a name that already existed.

No matter, he hoped desperately. No matter. If he were infected with something, they’d have the best doctors at a moment’s notice. Surely it was like that for Katarina, whose role must have been invaluable to the Grand General. Except the Grand General was ruthless and bloodthirsty and cared for nothing but war and their machines, and King Jarvan IV only wanted the best for his soldiers.

He was so distracted he forgot to track the little purple bug that was waiting in the blades of grass. The little purple bug who, despite its youth, knew very well about the world and its ways of working, because voidlings have to know something to live for more than a moment. It knew, very well, that its brothers and sisters would not come save it, help to swarm this man dead. She would have to get much worse for that.

It knew its only chance at life. So it crawled, faster than it had skittered away in the first place, darting up to his shoe and then his leg and then biting and burrowing its way in like the flesh was but sand and this was but another of Mother Rek’Sai’s tunnels.

And Garen, none the wiser, went back to his barracks.

--

not super proud of this one but I haven't done a short story in a while. might do another one of "void parasite infects" but with some more fun to write characters

~Eve6262

[erratic-onslaught]

ooc musings - idle brainstorming (LoL Specific)

Anyway, distracting from drama, who wants to do some brainstorming with me?

So with League things and threads, Hale is from a completely different region. He's not from the Freljord, he's notably different from the frost trolls of Runeterra as he comes from a different breed of trolls found in the far north, and the way I go about League-based threads is that he occasionally finds his way back to the Freljord and stays there for periods of time until he gets bored

I would love to find a reason for Hale to somehow happen across a place like Piltover

The only way he can't venture around is by flying on his own. How are some ways that you guys think Hale could end up in or close enough to there?

He's already happened across Bilgewater multiple times, sometimes on purpose, and has seen places like Mount Targon and Demacia from a distance

Give me whatever you can think of, I'm really curious

[prodigal-ezreal]

“You know, growing up on the richer sides of Piltover surrounded by the intellectual elite does little to actually prepare you for the world. Piltover is pretty huge on knowledge, you’d think they would be swimming in stories from immigrants from far off lands and the dangers waiting past the city. I mean, Zaun is right there past the corner. But you get used to it quickly. It’s just a part of your reality that you don’t even question: There they are; the poor people with their poor people’s toxic fumes. Working their poor people’s jobs. Oh well. It’s not until you leave the city and look at it with the eyes of a foreigner that you realize how messed up that is. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s rich neighborhoods and poor neighborhoods in all societies (Except Freljord? But they are not big on the whole ‘good neighbor’ thing). But Piltover gives you pretty bad whiplash when you come back to it after some healthy time away.

When I first left the city I was a lad of fifteen, eyes full of wonder and really to take on whatever the world threw my way!— Not. I was armed with a pocket knife and a whole lot of bravado that I still keep today, if in healthier amounts. I liked to think most people are good, and those who aren’t are pushed by the circumstance more often than not. That there are few people that are actually ‘born rotten’, as if something was evil from within their heart. I still think that today but, boy oh boy, was I wrong about the ratios! Turns out the world is very hard outside of Piltover and most won’t hesitate to cross you, kill you or rob you if you make yourself enough of a target. Or an inconvenience. Or if you just happen to be there.

It’s a tough world out there.

The first time the weight of this reality hit me was when I found myself running away from a couple of crooks that were very set on robbing me blind. I was still a kid, probably sixteen, and I kind of overestimated how much my baby face, pristine clothes that screamed new money and, well, the fact I have a huge bronze gauntlet on my left arm would stick like a sore thumb in Bilgewater. So there I was, running away from guys at least thrice my age and twice my height through streets and alleys I’d never crossed in my life, cutting corners and trying shortcuts that I prayed wouldn’t end in dead ends. My intuition helped me get rid of one of my pursuers, but my luck ran out when I came face to face with a dead end in the form of a run down, half destroyed and rotting wooden house. I couldn’t turn back and chose another way, the guy was closing im behind me too fast, so I went right inside to hide somewhere and hope he got bored of looking for me. Spoiler alert: he did not.

So there I was, absolutely terrified and running solely on adrenaline. I wasn’t used to the gauntlet yet and so I burned through my mana in the persecution. I was a sitting duck hiding inside a dark, small closet, trying to quiet my breathing but gasping for air. Exhausted, scared and with no idea what to do except wait with my heart hanging by a thread.

The old wood creaked under his weight, bending under his footsteps.

I could hear him coming close to me, heard him force the door open and completely dismiss the chair I put in a hurry to try and block it. My eyes followed his shadow across the floor, breathing in short breaths to not make a sound, hoping only I could hear my hearbeat rabitting in my ear.

There wasn’t much to look for in that ratty old place, so my hiding spot was pretty obvious. He turned towards me without hesitation, and while I am sure it took him no less than three seconds to cut the short distance between where he stood and the closet, I used that eternity to summon all the courage within me and jumped out the moment he opened the doors.

While he was way taller than me, the guy was pretty weak or fairly drunk because my tackle was enough to send us both rolling to the ground. We struggled and fought and I somehow managed to kick his gun out of his hand before he overpowered me and threw me off of him and into the wall. My back hit the wood first and my head whipped into it with enough force to leave me stunned for a second. I must have done a pretty number on him too, because when I opened my eyes he was cleaning the blood off his face and slowly standing up. I could see his chest rise and fall. he was tired too. But the sadistic glee of having his prize backed into a corner is seared into my mind. I look around me in a panic, knowing I am out of options but still hoping for a miracle.

The old revolved had landed somewhere close to me.

I made my choice.

I lunged for the gun and held it between my trembling hands, pointed, closed my eyes, and shot.

Three times I heard the deafening boom of a bullet going off.

Then silence, a ringing in my ears.

People don’t die like the comics or stories. Getting shot is not a clean death if you don’t aim it right. I didn’t aim it at all. One of the bullets hit him on the throat, right between the windpipes and and the vein.

He gasped for air, reaching to his neck. Tried to scream, but all that came was a gargled sound.

I saw him choke in his own blood. His teary eyes set on me. I think I could almost hear a cry.

It am not ashamed of what I did. I am not proud of it, either.

I’ve seen a lot of death since, sometimes related to things I do. I try to not kill people if I can get away with it, but sometimes bad guys are really bad, and sometimes it’s just two people stuck between a rock and a hard place and you are both thinking ‘better you than me’.

It’s a tough world out there. You get used to it.

[heckinhacker]

Alright, i'm probably the only person in the world interested in this, but could you please give me some romantic headcanons for Brand from before he became, well, Brand (AKA for Kegan Rodhe)?

Kegan Rodhe(Brand) x S/O - meeting and falling in love.

A/N: *gross sobbing* Kegan deserved better team–

Fair warning: I changed original ending of Kegan, so it’s not strictly sticking to canon I’m sorry—

You were Ryze’s humble student. Great idea of walking into Freljord didn’t quite fit into your likings but you don’t have any word on that one. You just follow Ryze.

When you walked into the cave where laid down some man, freezing to death or waiting for miracle, you felt your chest clench. 

Poor thing, what is his purpose of being here? Alone? 

You didn’t had to say anything, only one glance at Ryze and he sighed deeply, walking to freezing boy. 

“What the…” he started, with visible shock. “Are you ghosts? Evil spirits?” asked confused barberian. 

“No, child. We are none of it. And who are you?”

“…Kegan. Kegan Rodhe.” 

You touched his shoulder slowly, unsurely, just to check his temperature. He shivered, surprised by sudden contact. 

“ Let’s…let’s start some fire, Master. We can’t just let him die here!” - you stated.

“I am aware, [Y/N].” 

You three didn’t really talked,  just waited in pleasantly warm fire to warm up your bodies and maybe souls. 

That was a hars start.

At first Kegan didn’t really trust any of you. Ryze seemed like he knew everything about him already - which put him in uneaseness - and you, little mage in learning, were too caring. Unnaturally caring. It made him sick, noone cared for him enough to make sacrifices for him, so why now all of sudden someone tries to show empathy? Pathetic. 

Ryze claimed himself to be Kegan’s Master too, that he will teach him how to use magic. Not control, guide it. Like he taught you. 

Kegan wasn’t so keen on the idea, but followed you and Ryze anyway. What else can he do, really? 

After longer time, I mean here a few weeks, he started to warm up slowly to you. More to you than to Ryze. Ryze - or self-claimed Master - was a big mystery to him. You - on the other hand - were like an open book. You spoke in easy words so he can understand more. So kind-hearted. 

That was something that made you more likeable. He find that amazing and terrifying. 

He asked you to search for some wood with him, you gladly agreed. 

On your trip, he started unsurely - “Uh…[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, Kegan?”

“I…need to get something off of my chest. I wanted to be in privacy with you since I don’t want Master to listen. He just…”

“I understand. We can just…sit down somewhere? Like here!” You pointed at tree that was laying down on the ground. Maybe some strong winds has pulled them down. 

And you sat down. Kegan fiddled his hands with nervousness. 

He told you all about himself. He told you how he even came into this world, what “”curse”” he was wearing, he explained to you this stupid story everyone blindy believed in, how he was treated by his mother, then how he fell for this girl - his FIRST friend ever - Zvanna. How she unintentionally broke his heart. How kind she was. How she died because of him. He told you EVERYTHING. He didn’t even knew why. He just wanted someone to understand. No idea why he felt that urge.

You cried, you sobbed like a baby. “Oh, Kegan Poor, poor Kegan. Life didn’t treat you well untill now, didn’t it?” 

You hugged him, while crying over his fate. Why? Why would you care enough to shed tears? 

“[Y/N], come on, don’t cry, it’s nothing, really.”

“You told me because it hurt, didn’t it? Bearing it alone? I’ll carry it with you, so let me cry over now my weight too, alright? Please, don’t act tough when you’re hurting…”

And that somehow broke him down. He started sobbing, crying, clinging to you like his life would depend on it. All of his 19 years of living, he was hugged for the first time. It felt burning, not like fire-like unpleasant burning, that was very pleasurable burning. 

Bonus: you really made him this pathetic, in front of you. Did you use your magic on him??

He was 100% sure you did, but you didn’t. You just wanted to be kind to him, kinder than Zvanna tried, kinder than anyone else. 

After he pulled slowly back and looked at you with red eyes from crying, you both looked into yourselves eyes.

You both smiled tiredly after all those tears. You put your hands on his cheeks and caressed his burnt skin - his scar. 

He never felt those emotions, what was happening? He was so, sooo confused? 

He didn’t knew at the moment that he felt for you harder than he did all those years back for Zvenna. 

You showed him something much more than he could even imagine. Love and emotions beyond everything. 

He asked Ryze for advices with “those weird tingles he felt when he were around you.”

And Ryze calmly explained that he maybe felt in love with you. 

It was that easy for him to realise. Just someone telling him directly. 

Because Kegan was a simple man, he told you directly he had feelings for you. He found good place for that though. 

He was so anxious you would tell him off, that he’s disgusting and crossed line of your friendship he wasn’t supposed to. 

But you smiled, blushed and held his hands like he meant the world to you. 

Well, mostly because he did meant world to you–

You accepted his feelings gladly, with return! 

And he was so shook-! 

He smiled so widely - you never expected him to smile. He teared up, all those emotion which were bottled inside him just let out. He kissed you all over your face and ended on lips. You were now his. Only his. 

When Ryze wanted to tell Kegan about World Runes, you begged him not to do it.

You just had the feeling that Kegan wouldn’t use that information wisely.

You loved him and didn’t wanted to lose him. You felt like if he got to know about them, he would do something you all three would regret. 

So Ryze did agree to keep this information out of Kegan’s knowledge.

Kegan continued his lessons about magic with you and Ryze for years and years. 

You were a happy couple with your Master taking care of you and your magical education. 

Happy End! He never became Brand and he could live for the rest of his life surrounded by love and understanding! ♥ 

[deuslore-a]

@unshackles​   asked    :   ❛   Why are you telling me this?   ❜

          “    you caught me out,   right   ?   game over.  story’s done.   “   she’d say.   thus did a sigh come from the girl’s lips,   there was so many unexpected things in the freljord.   perhaps she should have done some more research before daring to enter these lands.   fingertips tapped against her upper thigh.   since the pretense was over,   did she drop the current outward disguise.   there was a moment in which her hand twisted slightly,    if he had sensed her magic thus far she was sure he would notice that.   but;   nobody could see how she had been in her childhood.   

             she had worked it out since then   -   what it meant   -   and nobody else could ever be privy to such information.   “   it doesn’t really matter what i tell you now,   does it   ?   “   she says.   until she knew what his intentions were,   she must keep up her guard.   her softness,   her innocence,   would not win her out of this situation.   time to show what noxus had taught her.   “   so what will it be   ?   death   -   or am i your hostage now,   or something   ?   “   

she hoped for the latter;   she could still get out of that somehow.   she was certain of it.   she did not allow for anyone to control her,   she was herself and that was enough for her.   after gavyn dreher’s death:   she would never experience kneeling to anyone again.   “   if you need convincing,   i know a lot more than that.   “   more lies and more stories she would have to tell.  

[ardent-apprentice]

Sol, The Ardent Apprentice

A short story by:  Ominous_The_Unknown

I

In the magical world of Runeterra, mountains move, forests come alive, the dead assault the living, and reality sometimes fractures to give a brief glimpse to the horrible Void beyond. But even though the arcane energies course through all the nations, there is no other place quite as whimsical like Bandle City, the central hub of Yordle life. Across the lands, these short creatures are seen in a multitude of different perspectives. Forest fae-folk, mischievous imps, urban legends, valiant warriors, and heinous villains, Yordles always seem to be synonymous with some kind of outstanding trait that makes them outstanding in their own right. 

During their early, formative years, young Yordles quickly come to find what makes them unique from one another and once they do, they soon set themselves down the path to honing their skills to try and become the best in their craft. Of course, not every Yordle specialized in entirely different things. It was common for some to be gifted a knack for tinkering and invention much like the great minds of Heimerdinger, Rumble or Ziggs. Others were given more physical, combative skills like Tristana or Teemo. And of course, there was the occasional magic user like Lulu. But what happens when your talent doesn’t manifest when it should? What happens when the people around you develop some kind of magnificent skill when you are left with nothing?

Sol was forced to ask himself this question many times over when he realized that the other young Yordles around him were attaining their unique abilities whereas he had none. In the beginning, he was assured that he would find his niche soon enough, but time passed and he still found himself left in the dust. He would watch as others were able to conjure small balls of energy, create phantasmal elemental displays, briefly summon ethereal aurora-like creatures, or even infuse machines to give them extra vigor. It wasn’t long before the older Yordles decided to properly study him. A few of the more astute researchers of the city came together and performed a few tests on him, hoping to find the answer.

Then, to Sol’s horror, he was finally given the bad news.

Unlike the others, the charcoal gray yordle was magically inept and lacked a mana pool to draw the necessary arcane energies do anything noteworthy. At that very moment, it was as if the weight of Mount Targon was set upon the Yordle’s heart. The information was a curse that forced Sol to watch helplessly as his close friends became apprentices to some of Bandle City’s champions while he was subjected to a mundane and unfulfilling life. Even at a young age, Sol felt that his dreams of becoming some well known Yordle had been destroyed. He grappled with the idea for a while and in the end, he outright refused to accept it. 

Bitterness and envy slowly slithered into the young Yordle’s heart, poisoning him ever so slightly, but instead of letting it destroy him, Sol used it to push onwards. Soon it became apparent that what Sol lacked in magical prowess, he made up for in tenacity, boldness, and creativity. Bullies would, of course, try to take advantage of him or tease him as they flaunted their skills in front of him. The name-calling, the minor physical altercations, the laughter, it stung, but Sol relied on the fact that they underestimated him so that he could beat them at their own games. 

If anything, his newfound strength despite his lack of mana actually made him stand out more because he would do everything in his power to ensure that no one looked down on him. He refused to sulk, he refused pity, and above all else, he sought to break the fate that had been cruelly handed to him. Within the Yordle, a sort of bullheaded attitude emerged as he sought to absorb as much information as possible to see if anything triggered some latent talent hidden within. Archery, crafting, smithing, politics, Sol would attempt to learn everything. Even when he didn’t become a master at it, he at least came away with some experience. Ultimately, this meant that Sol became known as a jack-of-all-trades. 

But once Sol became an adolescent, he realized that his accumulated skills still weren’t enough. Instead of continuing to study within the small confines of Bandle City. the abnormal Yordle made the decision to explore the world. Many people within the city knew that it was possible and that even some of the more famous Yordles had survived to become rather huge stars in other cities, but it was still a risky decision. The elders of the city said he was a fool and that without forging his own unique talent that he would quickly die without any ability to protect himself, but Sol’s close friends knew that because of his myriad of skills that he would forge his own path. 

The young Yordle quickly assembled enough equipment and other necessities and bid a fond farewell to Bandle City and its inhabitants before he journeyed outwards. He would find new mentors, make new friends and discover what was truly hidden deep within him. 

---------------------------------------------

II

There were many limitations to being a Yordle. In some places they were seen as normal living beings with rights, others they were a myth and in a select few they were abhorred and either cast out like plague bearers or maybe even attacked on sight. With that in mind, there were unwritten rules for traveling abroad as a Yordle.

The first and probably most important rule is to never reveal oneself as a Yordle. Information travels slowly through Runeterra, and even though some progressive regions accepted all races that was not the case for the majority of the world. To socialize, most traveling Yordles were often given a magical glamour that would simply disguise them as short humans. There were some fringe cases of course, like the valiant Poppy, deranged Kled and estranged Lulu, but that was mostly because they were more than capable of defending themselves if they were ever threatened with violence. For other Yordles, physical altercations were best avoided.

Even with a rather large list of practical skills, without magical energy Sol’s friends and family knew that it would be best if he traveled prepared. Before departing, Sol was gifted an enchanted pendant that could accomplish such a task, but he soon discovered that his mana deficiency would cause issues. The glamour itself very slowly used up the wearer’s mana when being used, and in most cases, a regular Yordle could wear it for as long as they wanted since they would regenerate the energy just as fast as it was being depleted. So in Sol’s case, he could only activate the pendant for a few days before his body ran out of mana to power it, then he would have to travel as his regular fuzzy, self to recharge. There were many instances where that proved to be a huge disadvantage, but during his adventure, he just learned ways to work around it. 

Along with the stigma against his species, Sol also began to interact with various living creatures in the world. Some were warm and kind, others brave warriors filled with courage and honor, while a select few had bitterness and anger brewing within them. The growing Yordle had to observe and catalog every interaction as he started to develop his own set of rules to operate by when he revisited certain locations. His tome of rules slowly grew over time and he would openly share them with fellow Yordles that he happened to come across during his travels, for example:

 Never challenge a Noxian. Their hardy nature makes them competitive and their bloodthirsty traits mean it won’t take much until they lose their temper and draw a weapon.

If a Bilgewater pirate questions if you’re a Yordle, tell them you’re just small hairy and that they’re too drunk to tell. Also, always keep a few golden krakens with you whether you believe in their superstition or not, it may just save your life.

No matter how furry you are, always wear warm layers when traveling in Freljord and try to stay dry. Wet fur can turn into solid chunks of ice if you’re not careful.

STAY AWAY FROM THE SHADOW ISLES AT ALL COSTS

When in Piltover or Zaun, try to wear a magical glamour or at the very least wear a disguise. Both places demonize Yordles and have even imprisoned them. 

Piltover is nice, but there are many flashy hypocrites there who don’t know what they’re doing. However, you can always go to Heimerdinger at his laboratory for a safe haven since he’s a well-known researcher there. 

Zaun is dangerous for a litany of reasons, like roving madmen, and a bloodthirsty chimera wolf-thing and just rampant lawlessness. Also, be careful of friendly fire when traveling in Zaun, Ziggs is known to go crazy there from time to time. 

Sol’s notebook was starting to become an epic in its own right as it documented his travels day by day, carried numerous errata and inserted trinkets and drawings. His accumulated skills also made him a rather valuable asset in most situations as he was able to make himself useful in dire situations. Despite his short stature, Sol was able to repair a ship’s sail during a storm, cook meals for the less fortunate, and even help build makeshift shelters. Even though he wasn’t exactly perfect at the job, the mere fact that he would always volunteer to help and put himself out on the field made him very likable.  

He found himself partaking in many different adventures as he followed his heart and traveled all around the world. Sol had spent some time helping on a fishing boat, infiltrating bandit camps to save captured Yordles or even cavorting in ancient ruins to find treasure or long lost secrets. If anything, the exploration of it all appealed to him the most and he loved to dig deep into the history of long dead people and inspect the artifacts that they left behind. When he sometimes came into contact with ancient relics, they would flicker or light up as the energies bound within them were somehow stirred to life, but strangely enough, when he handed those very same items to his compatriots, the object would go silent. Sol would also discover old scrolls or books written in dead languages, but just after studying the strange iconography and hieroglyphs, he seemed to understand what they meant and in some cases could even pronounce them. Sol just attributed this to his litany of skills that he had built up though and didn’t think much of it. He never bothered to inspect the magical items further, since he knew that his minuscule amount of mana would never unlock the secrets within them.   

During one period, Sol had discovered a faded map of some ancient civilization in a nearby forest. He spent a week studying the language printed on it by reviewing what information he had and he deduced that there must be some kind of treasure hidden within. Sol gathered his belongings and started to move headstrong into the brush before he finally came upon his destination in a matter of two days. Using his uncanny ability to read the hieroglyphs and understand the ornate designs of the art on the walls, the charcoal black Yordle was able to avoid or even disarm most of the traps laid within the ruins before he finally discovered a hidden room with old leather-bound tome displayed on a plinth.  

Even though Sol was unsure of the book’s origin, he could at least surmise that it was important and the instant he set his hands on it, multicolored energy cascaded out of it in an aurora-like tornado. The book opened as light poured out of its pages and wisps of power trailed out into the world beyond. As the pages rapidly flipped in front of him, the Yordle looked on with confused awe as he realized that he was somehow barely reading the words as they flew past him. His lips began to move on their own as the energy within the pages abated and appeared to listen. But even then it was still too much. 

Sol had no idea how it was possible, but he could feel the energy pulsing through his veins before it started to become a searing hot pain that radiated through his arms and into his chest. The dark gray Yordle found himself unable to let go of the book, which brought a fresh wave of panic over him. He could feel his very life essence getting immolated from within as the foreign energies burnt to brightly inside of him. 

As he was about to pass out from the pain born of the immense power another aura entered the room. For a brief moment, a dark purple and green energy appeared before a bolt of arcane power shot out of the darkness and collided with the book in his hands. The force of the blast was enough to blast the book out of Sol’s hands before it spiraled away as a burning heap. Sol crumpled to the ground, chest heaving and his vision blurring as he barely registered a figure approaching him.

Clad in dark purple garb with a large wizard’s cap atop his midnight black fur, the infamous Yordle Veigar came forward and looked down at the fallen adventurer. Before Sol could speak though, the world around him faded to black as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

----------------------

III

By the time Sol woke up, he found himself in a candle-lit abode somewhere within some kind of intricate cave system. His body ached but he was at least thankful he could still move. He lay atop a creaky old bed, with some decrepit bookcases and drawers to act as furniture. Everything seemed to be secondhand, scavenged and mismatched, and yet whoever assembled everything at least took the time to clean the dust away somewhat. He could remember an infinite well of power being poured into his body. So much power that it was actually agonizing. 

Without any introduction, Veigar began to berate Sol for how foolish he was being. The dark master of evil wasted no time in explaining how the tome was cleverly hidden trap meant to entice any curious magic user into coming into contact with it all for the sake of burning them from the inside out. He then expounded that if it wasn’t for him, Sol would’ve been turned into a pile of ashes on the ruin floor. 

The only reason why Veigar had decided to intervene was that he noticed something strange about the trap that Sol had sprung. He explained that the book worked by manipulating a person’s innate mana pool to disrupt the inner balance within it. What he found interesting was that Sol didn’t explode as he thought he would and instead somehow started to read the text even though it was a long-dead language. Veigar then immediately began to question Sol’s identity and how he was able to not only read but speak the dead tongue but to his surprise, the dark gray Yordle could offer no solid answer.

“I just have a knack for it I guess.” Was Sol’s answer as he gave a nervous chuckle.

His answer only made Veigar raise an eyebrow skeptically before he let out an irritated sigh and reached into his coat. He then withdrew what looked like an old bone with odd letters scryed into it before he tossed it carelessly at Sol. The injured Yordle yelped as he just barely managed to catch it but the instant he saw the letters the gears began to turn in his head. It was another dialect vastly different from the ones he had seen in the book previously and yet there was some odd feeling of familiarity to them. Before Sol could ask what it was, Veigar also took out his short staff and began to focus malicious power into it. The Tiny Master of Evil then pointed the empowered end of the staff at Sol’s face before he demanded that he read the letters. 

Panic immediately consumed Sol as his eyes widened and he assured Veigar that he just had a faint clue as to what the letters meant, but he could already see that the pitch black Yordle did not believe him. Sol could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the heat from Veigar’s magic staff brushed against his fur. He knew that reasoning wouldn’t work, so Sol looked down at the ancient bone and did his best to try and divine the meaning behind the letters. 

To his surprise, everything began to click for the charcoal gray Yordle as it seemed like the ancient inscriptions somehow morphed into the words and letters that he was familiar with. Unsure as to how it was possible, Sol didn’t care and simply began to recite the words on the bone, hoping that it would appease his captive. The more Sol spoke, the candles in the room began to burn brighter before they shifted into a lavender hue. He continued to read the words before Veigar finally snatched it out of his hands and snickered. 

Scared and confused, Sol asked the mage what just happened as Veigar just smirked at him. He was able to somehow divine the meaning behind dead languages before, but what he had done was on an entirely different level. Veigar then explained that somehow, someway, Sol’s innate trait was the ability to read and tap into the magic trapped within ancient artifacts. His lack of a large mana pool actually made him the perfect conduit for oddities and enchanted items to flow and mesh with him. 

To further prove his point, the pitch black Yordle went over to one of the nearby shelves and carelessly pulled out of the book before he threw it at Sol. He explained that many of the books that he had procured over the years were magical in nature and most were inscribed in foreign languages both living and dead. Sol gingerly opened the book up to a random page and to his surprise, he could understand the words in there as well. Next, Veigar took what looked like an orb of polished onyx and handed it to Sol. From what the mage knew, information within the book could unlock the true potential of the artifact and he asked that Sol read a passage to see if anything happened. 

Nervous, but now somehow energized at realizing his dormant talent, Sol carefully read the text before he slowly began to say the words. As he did, the orb began to vibrate and emit a low hum until it started to float. 

Giddy smiles spread across both Sol and Veigar’s face at the sight of the activated artifact before the black furred Yordle crossed his arms. He then gave Sol the opportunity of a lifetime by asking if he wanted to become his apprentice and help unlock and master the magic-infused within all of the items that he discovered. Feeling that he already owed the mage a debt for saving his life, Sol gladly accepted the offer and soon his real work began.

Once he was fully healed, Sol would spend hours pouring over books, scrolls, and engraved tablets while at the same time handling and coaxing the magic out of ancient artifacts and weapons. To both his and Veigar’s surprise, he was able to unlock their true potential fairly easily as the dead languages flowed from his mouth and further accelerated his learning. Sol’s arsenal of artifacts soon grew over the years as he and Veigar traveled around, collecting items and deciphering old script as the charcoal gray Yordle was perfectly content with being a lexicon of antiquated knowledge. 

[poroquagganbob]

Story concept - Braum comes from Runeterra to punch Kralk in the face - this is bare-bones and probably poorly written but hey, its a thing

(this story falls on the logic that Braum is an Iceborn and immortal, as well that magic from outside Tyria can harm Kralkatorrik .) 

“What do we do now?! “

The Commander fell to their knees, defeated... unsure of where to move next, did anything even matter anymore? Without Aurene, how could we even win now?

“I don’t know.....”

Suddenly, a portal appeared. An unfamiliar,  icy landscape could faintly be viewed. It resembled an area in the Shiverpeaks but felt ... wrong... somehow. 

Out of the portal came a small, fluffy goat-like being with a big pink tongue and a mustache. It squeaked and chattered at the group.

Then, he came.

Tall as a Norn but he had an air of magic about him. This man had existed for as long as time itself, perhaps. 

“Hello my friends! “  - he said, in a gentle voice

“Who the hell are you.... “ said the Commander.

“Braum is here! “  he said, with a chuckle

“Okay... “ said the Commander

Braum then leaned down , looking sympathetic to the Commander’s plight and putting his hand on the Commander’s shoulder

“The darker the night, the brighter the stars, my friend... Braum will make this right” 

Then his smile faded into a look of pissed-off determination

“Braum heard the rumblings of the death of Dragon-Friend from his world.”

“ And where the hell is that?”

“World called Runeterra, Braum hails from Freljord, home of Poros.” he said, pointing out his fluffy companion with a matching mustache.

“uh.... “

“Is not important. More important.. Braum is here ... to punch Dragon-Grandpapa in face.” 

“uh... okay.... How do you plan on doing that? With all due respect.... we just were defeated by him and barely made a dent. ” 

Before the Commander had finished speaking, the strange Norn-like man had set off, his fluffy companion trailing behind happily.

“Godspeed, you strange man... godspeed. “ 

After about a week of searching for Kralkatorrik, Braum finally came upon the beast.

The dragon was wounded in the eye but did not seem that phased by it.

“BRAUM IS HERE “ he shouted. 

Kralkatorrik reared its ugly head at him and unleashed a blast of purple from its mouth.

He raised his shield  and stopped the blast dead in its tracks, looking unimpressed.

“ Think carefully, my friend. “ he replied, as the beast roared at him. 

He then did a flying leap and punched Kralkatorrik in the other eye as hard as possible. Which was quite hard, given that Braum could canonically punch through mountains and trees with very little effort. The beast was now permanently blinded.

Kralkatorrik was thrown backwards by the punch, and seemed bewildered. How had a simple man bested him?

“Braum came to punch Dragon in face... Braum has done that. “ chuckled Braum

Kralkatorrik looked like he was going to stand but Braum raised his shield again, slamming it down, unleashing a torrent of ice which split the ground in half. The dragon fell into the icy pit that had been created. 

Then Braum landed the finishing blow, not one that would kill the beast but one that would prevent the Elder Dragon from hurting anyone else. 

 He froze Kralkatorrik solid with his shield’s power. This was not normal ice, but  True Ice, a staple of Braum’s world. It was ice that did not melt for all time.

The Commander reached the make-shift lair of Kralkatorrik and saw Braum, standing by the pit where the beast had been frozen solid .

Braum turned around and smiled at the Commander.

“How does this solve the problem? Kralkatorrik is just going to be unfrozen someday “ said the Commander 

“You are safe with Braum.... Braum has frozen Dragon in ice from his world, True Ice. Ice which does not melt “ chuckled Braum

The Commander was quite confused at what had transpired but before they could thank this strange man from another world.... the portal opened again and Braum and his companion disappeared into it .

“I’m a little upset he got the final blow..... but I hope we’ll see him again. “ 

THE END

[snugglyporos]

Sounds like Poros are like Koa-toa.

Not particularly, beyond the belief aspect. Koa-Toa's abilities come from their insanity, which is where their belief lies.

Poros are made of three equal parts: valor, truth, and innocence. In particular, these last two are important here.

Poros do not understand the concept of lying very well, beyond simple tricks, and this is because poros are filled with love. But because poros are innocent, the concept of truth takes on a deeper meaning.

Much like how a child will take things to be true even if they aren't in reality, because the concept of doubt hasn't entered their mind yet, and come up with all sorts of ideas about how things work, poros have done the same with the world around them.

This innocence means that the poros take things they believe to be truth, or absolutes. This also only works in positive ways, because Poros are innocent and thus have never considered harming another creature, just as they believe nothing can harm them.

The Koa-Toa's madness causing infection among others of their race, which can spread uncontrollably; a single poro cannot do any such thing. Nor can collective poro belief cause harm to other creatures; the thing under the ice isn't dead, merely trapped, and while poros seem to cause changes in undead and void beings, this doesn't result in their destruction. Poros are immune to the harrowing for example, as evidenced by the Sinister Poro, and may be able to sway even Thresh to feel kindness, but they do not permanently change him, because poro belief isn't mind control.

What it is, in my opinion, is closer to a reality paradigm akin to what you'd find in Mage: The Ascension. Collective belief causes effects in reality. We can assume that poros have not always existed either; Azir didn't know of them in his original life in canon, and they certainly didn't exist before the thing that Lisandra did brought ruin to the Freljord and turned it into the frozen wasteland that it is now.

Which means that poros, thought to be all the good in the Freljord embodied, are a bit like reality's antibodies to counter the void, medicine created by the gods to overcome the problem of a creature that spreads chaos.

Thus, what poros believe becomes truth. Their innocence becomes reality. Obviously, individual poros do not have much in the way of power when it comes to altering reality. A single poro rarely causes much change. But poros do change occasionally: plunder poro takes on the aspects of a pirate because he believes he is one; there's also the Poro King, who is likely the way he is because he possesses the traits Poros' believe all kings just have.

Thus, because all poros believe something, it becomes truth, by value of their innocence.

A poro is invulnerable, because it doesn't believe anything would want to hurt it; thus, nothing is trying to hurt it; thus nothing can hurt it, for hurting is an act of intention. This squares how someone might explain the poro being eaten story; you could feasibly convince a poro that cutting it was simply changing it's shape and that this was some kind of care routine, but as soon as it thought the routine was over it would naturally return back to being a poro, which would result in the described alien like chest bursting while the poro lacked any kind of intent to harm, because a poro would never think to do that.

But it also means that poros, in large numbers, possess collective belief over certain things. The Freljord, or poroland, is cold, snowy, and has poros. The thing under the ice is, by definition, under the ice. And of course, poros cannot be harmed.

It also explains how poros, somehow, live in a frozen wasteland which seems incapable of growing any kind of food for them to survive on. The poros simply find it, because they believe it must exist around them if they look for it.

How deep this ability goes is up for debate, I think; I believe that Braum is immortal, because he alone is Friend of the Poros, which is some kind of official title they came up with, which like Poro King exists in a constant present that would mean that he can't ever not be that thing.

This may also explain the one bit of canon that I disagree with and don't use, which regards how poros reproduce. Canon says that feeding poros makes them grow, until they explode, into more poros. Obviously, this backs up my claim that poros cannot be hurt, because somehow exploding doesn't harm them. Personally, I write that poros who are filled with so much love snuggle each other, and then their excess wool grows entangled, balls up, and becomes a new baby poro, thus explaining how new poros are infused with love.

In any case, the sources are entirely different between them and the fish people, even if they share similarities on some level.

[fatebreaking-a]

on the musician and magic and the crown and all of it

One of the major things to pay attention to is the simple fact that no one ever calls out the musician. Not in lore, not in voice lines, the closest thing we get is morg’s voice line to her (which again doesn’t talk about her magic, but her existence, her being, her soul sings for a forgotten world or whatnot)

So you consider that okay she’s at least not in the public eye for magic. We would have heard something about it, right? Something? So she’s not on the magic people registry and isn’t confirmed to be a mage and somehow the mageseekers haven’t noticed either. Somehow. So she’s either weak enough to pass by without notice or strong enough to hide her magic or make people look the other way.

And there’s an argument for her being strong, not just in the implication that she can manipulate people’s feelings in her bio, but in the Call of Power short w/ the Rune Mage. She’s strong enough to help him, at least. To lift people up in the air with one chord.

So she’s strong. And she’s willing to go out of her way to help Ryze, a mage, deal with world-threatening problems. Which means she’s not against mages in general, and she’s got a global perspective at least. She sees beyond Demacia (which makes sense, as the Ionia-Noxus conflict should strongly affect her perception - one may make a case that Morg’s quote to her is referencing her old home which is burned and forgotten but it’s all conjecture at this point).

So what does a fairly strong magician who sees that there are problems globally to be worried about do when faced with a home city that would rebuke her, throw her in chains, or exile her? She doesn’t join the Mage Rebellion, clearly. She also doesn’t join the Crown. These are statements based on a lack of evidence. She’s not hunting mages (and it wouldn’t make sense to, because she’s okay with other mages). But she’s not in rebellion, or we would have heard something about it. Right now, Sylas is pretty solitary in the cast in his rebellion.

So. She’s somehow existing in Demacia out of notice or she’s still out handling world problems and probably taking notes from Ryze. Both these things would make sense. But her perspective gives her a very clear understanding of this fact:

Magic is an unavoidable force in the world.

Demacians can deny it all they like, but the World Runes don’t care about petricite. Lux and Sylas don’t care about petricite. There are bigger, larger problems to be dealt with. For instance, the Void (arguably the true big bad of Runeterra). Ignoring all of that seems petty. Feels petty. And as she is expressed to be a highly empathetic individual (Morg’s quote, her biography all imply she is a very soulful, sympathetic character), she also can’t ignore the pain that is being caused to her people.

So if you ask me, okay how does Sona feel...

She feels out of place.

She feels like she’s being dragged into the petty conflicts of the world, hurting as her people hurt, forced to watch the crown make stupid decisions and for the mage rebellion to make stupid decisions and for everyone to get hurt. She blames Jarvan, who she feels is charismatic but afraid to really bring about the change she believes he could. She knows he’s trying his best, and has sympathy towards him, but at the same time doesn’t understand how he can ignore a significant portion of his people’s plight for this long.

She feels the fearmongering about mages, that’s what got Garen and Vayne started on their paths. Lucian too. That all this hatred and fear and lack of proper understanding, it clumps everyone together.

She thinks that people are afraid of bad mages, but are unable to differentiate between a good and a bad mage. Like someone who is afraid to go outside in the morning because they were mugged once, Demacia appears to her as a collection of people that think “one’s rotten, they’re all rotten.”

That there are laws of stone, petricite clasps, any of those things. It’s a hypocritical admission that magic exists and needs to be branded, while denying it in the same sentence. But the unlawful, the ‘bad ones’, they won’t care about the laws of anti-magic. They won’t bother, they won’t care. So this fear mongering, who it hurts most... Are people who are afraid of their own power and don’t want to hurt anyone.

People like Lux. People like Sona. People like Sylas - who he once was.

She feels Demacia is making bad decisions at every turn and she feels powerless to stop it, but also worried at how involved she’s getting in what seems like an unwinnable fight. If she can help on a grander scale, shouldn’t she? If she can actually make a difference in other places, shouldn’t she? Cruelty begets suffering, suffering begets cruelty (and violence).

But she’s incapable of pulling herself away from the suffering of her people. This is what makes her so stuck. She can’t pull away. She can’t dive deeper. And there are always eyes on her, suspicious of her but unable to confirm her magic.

So if she’s in Demacia, she’s kept quiet about her magic. If she’s not, then she’s trying to help the world in her own way. But she can’t be out in the open about the world runes, about other threats, about the void - because that would require an explanation that would put her at risk of being thrown in jail.

All of this is a big reason why I see her kind of aligned with Morgana so much, but also caught between the position of those two sisters. At some point this walked away from ‘canon’ and into ‘conjecture’, but I just don’t know how to place Sona.

She’s someone who’s clearly capable of doing great things, but doesn’t. One of the questions that needs answering is why. What is it that’s keeping her from going out and doing more amazing things? Personal attachment? Love for her people? Because in Call of Power, she’s the most out of the way. Unlike Nasus in Shurima or MF on a ship (probably in Bilgewater) or Trundle in the Freljord, she’s clear across the world - Demacia and Ionia are on opposite edges. And make no mistake, Demacia is her home. Ionia may be her birthplace and she may be Ionian in terms of ethnicity, but she is a Demacian.

Too many questions, not enough answers.

I do miss when Sona could simply be a ‘hidden mage’ and still run around Demacia hugging everyone. When that was a reasonable, possible thing. But lore updates have made that very, very improbable and that makes her much harder to write in a clean, wholesome way. Any time anyone learns about her magic, it’s under context A: Demacian so there’s a lot of pain and secrecy and suffering or B: outside Demacia and she needs to make sure to keep herself covert and not incite too many questions or else she might not be able to go home.

Because Demacia is her home. Despite everything. It’s where she comes from. Where she grew up. And she has to balance ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘losing the one place in the world she has left’.

Because she doesn’t have Ionia. She doesn’t have her biological family. She doesn’t have wherever she comes from (see Morg’s quote). She doesn’t have her adoptive parents (implied but not confirmed Lestara’s dead from IoW/JoJ days, this could go either way). All she has left is this one place on all of Runeterra, her tiny little home. And it hates her, but she loves it.