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Leaving you breathless... (Open)
Yasuo, The Unforgiven, entered the Fields of Justice to reclaim his former glory and to hunt the assassin that has soiled his name. He calming sat down and began fiddling with the breezes within his surroundings. A master of the wind technique paired with expert swordplay he was ready for what would come around the corner. His ears perked up to the sounds of someone coming, but was it a friend or a foe?
Rock the stage
The fox grinned and waved as she slipped away from the crowed concert hall. It hadn't been long since the Institute had suggested the idea to her. Travel around Valoran and sing for people. At first she was hesitant..now her thoughts had changed.
Smiling she skipped back stage to her dressing area. Thankfully she didn't need much space and was able to find a spot secluded enough that she had some privacy. With a exhausted sigh she let herself slip into her chair. She kicked her heels off and set the hat aside before reaching for a bottle of water. The cool liquid let her body relax a bit, no longer in the need to move about with so much energy.
Though her ears perked up at the sound of foot steps outside her little hideaway. She wasn't expecting anyone, at least not until the show was going to start again. With a slight frown she tossed a look over her shoulder to see who it was..
One Down. | Open.
Concentrate. Her mother's voice bloomed at the back of her mind which brought a warm smile to Annie's face. Most importantly have fun with it. She giggled lightly to also hear the frequent saying her dad would tell her from day to day. If only they could see she was doing pretty well in Summoner's Rift and occasionally doing great in Howling Abyss. Annie giggled once more and sparked a fireball in her hand with ease. Her powers were growing with each year but she was still too young to care about that. The minions were fighting amongst themselves with such eager to win for their sides. Narrowing her eyes she caught sight of one getting weaker by the second and smirked lightly as she chucked the fireball at its' direction. However, a frown soon formed on her face as she had hit it too soon which led to another minion taking the kill. She stomped her foot on the soft ground and crossed her arms, hugging Tibbers tightly into her chest. This could all be over by her summoning the teddy bear to life but then there wouldn't be much fun in that. He'd destroy everything in sight and take the kills for himself. "Not now, Tibbers," she whispered. The girl stood up straight and tried once more as she cast a more powerful fireball at another minion. A grin spreading across her face as she got the kill and she couldn't help but jump up before celebrating with the tiny teddy bear in her arms.
Tune Up and Primer pt.2
So yer tellin' me it's gonna take how long???
Malcolm ran a hand tiredly through his hair as he spoke with a robed mechanic somewhere at the Institute of War. He had finally found an area he could discuss repairs for Destiny, however the news was not good to him. Apparently the repairs would at minimum take roughly two weeks, maybe even longer considering how "unique" the shotgun was.
The robed figure simply shrugged as he held onto the sparking weapon, and Graves simply waved him off in annoyance, watching him sink back into the shadows with his beloved gun. Rubbing his eyes, he turned on his heels and turned back. He was told he would be given a sort of replacement whenever summoned on the Fields of Justice during this time, one that would serve the same purpose as Destiny and at the same general capacity, a specter of his usual weapon, of sorts.
Either way, he felt naked without his trusted sidearm.
Ah hell an' damnation...they'd better fix 'er up quick...
Tune Up and Primer
A loud and clearly irritable grumble could be heard echoing through the spacious halls of the Institute of War, as well as the steady footfalls of leather on stone. Malcolm Graves eyed his surroundings warily, making sure no one was following him as he made his way through the building, looking this way and that for any sign of trouble, or shockingly enough for once, help.
In his hands lay Destiny, his faithful and trusty weapon of choice, hand-crafted and custom-designed to his tastes and needs from a very special and very expensive creator. Thankfully even before his time locked up in Zaun, Graves had managed to keep a personal stash left from his former con days and could easily afford his services, and it was very well worth the gold. However, just as any other weapon, Destiny was vulnerable to wear and tear, hextech or not, and was now showing signs of faulty work. The outlaw glanced down at his shotgun and winced slightly as a few sparks flew from the barrel, followed by the smell of burning ozone.
He had attempted to contact the old creator for repairs, but was met with a vacant workshop and a sign telling of vacation, much to his dismay and frustration. So here he was now, resorting to some mechanics of any sort that may in the off-chance might know how to deal with hextech weaponry. His first thought had been to visit Piltover, but considering his reputation as well as it's love of law, he decided against it. At least not until all his other options were worn out.
He growled again, gritting his teeth as he heard another spark sizzle from his trusty gun. Hopefully he wouldn't run into anyone who'd want to mess with him at a time like this. He was in no mood for games.
