#perspecivemage

There where softer areas to the surface where it bowed under Troku’s weight and caused some of the paint to crack and flake. The only support to the bottom seemed to be from some beams that are spaced out more than you would want for a floor, but it still held strong if a little bouncy.

After entering the room the pull on the marble was much stronger. Strong enough that it might even roll on it’s own should it be let go of. It was being drawn toward the far wall of the room.

// I really wish that were a thing... but honestly? I’m not sure how to calculate what the value would have to be, and I’m certainly don’t have the energy to figure it out.

BUT if I had to ballpark guess, Riot would make it stupid. Like 50 someodd keys or whatever. Enough that for the average player it would be really dumb, because most people don’t... only play support lmao

@perspecivemage​ liked for a starter

If Sam knew that there was anyone she could talk to about the events that unfolded with her family, it would be her friend Vern. This meant travelling to one of the few places that she hated travelling to, Piltover.

She kept her hood up, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Using her new profound skills, she tried her best to track down the male through seeing his magical aura. The female wondered up and down streets, but still no luck and was starting to get weary looks, she ignored these and kept going.

It was hard for Renzus to admit that he’d been forced into a corner, but here he was, in a literal corner, and running out of options.

Bilgewater was, as always, a relatively unwelcoming place, but this time the Crow could not blame them from being outright hostile. One of the island’s coves served as a hiding spot for one particular crew’s prized loot, and they were none to happy that an intruder had found it. Normally, Renzus would have no qualms simply blasting his way out with arcane fire, but the Crow realized that the contents of the crates were highly volatile chemicals headed for Zaun; any errant bolt of lightning could ignite any one of them, and the resultant explosion would be catastrophic.

He might not even survive.

The shadows were his ally, but even those were running thin. The corsairs had brought up fresh stockpiles of torches, and their search for Renzus was about to bear fruit. With his weapon out of ammunition and his mana reserves dwindling, the First Crow braced himself for the fight of his life. As he did so, however, a thought sprung unbidden to his mind; a small trinket, offered to him by an eccentric space-bending mage, with the promise of immediate aid should the trinket be broken.

Renzus didn’t think he’d actually need it. But now was as good a time as any. Quietly, he snapped the item in his fist, and waited for the assistance he was promised.

Vern paused as he milled over the question. "I don't know. People give weird looks when you say it differently." Vern turned to stare at his new friend, something clearly on his mind.

“Magic needs a exercise too. Especially when one doesn’t have much else compared those that would do you harm...”

The orb in his hand flattened to a disc and he started to clean and fillet the fish. Vern tossed the guts into the river.