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First chapter posted here:
One oversight with regards to the (apparently) contractual service of League champions leads to an all-expense (begrudgingly) paid vacation to the official League of Legends Summer Resort where all champions are entitled and invited to relax and socialize! This goes about as well as anyone could expect. (read: not very)
Not to be confused with "An Excuse to Write About Attractive Video Game Characters In Bikinis" or "Who Needs A Plot When You Have Silly Beach Antics and Volleyball?" or "Time Travel as a Convenient Reset Button"
Notes: My very first League of Legends fic. I'd appreciate some reviews and feedback wherever needed!
Also, feel free to post any suggestions. Be it funny antics, shenanigans, possible pairings opportunities, or swimsuit ideas (not judging).
First chapter preview:
"…-their contracts, sir. They state that-"
The young summoner, Wilhelm, blinked up oddly at his superior, Ferrick. The man was giving him a quizzical look in return (from what Wilhelm could see from the shroud that the other man's hood was casting over his face). "The champion's contracts, sir."
"Whose?" Ferrick asked, still puzzled, brows shooting up from the darkness of his hooded visage (as was an unspoken custom among higher-ranked summoners for them to have an 'air of mystery' for reasons not quite explained to anyone).
Wilhelm looked at him as if asking if the supervising summoner had even heard a word he said previously, which he suspected was the case. "The champions, sir," he clarified. "Specifically, their payment agreements."
"When the devil did we ever give champions payment agreement contractsto the champions?"
"Since you signed an agreement on it," Wilhelm sighed then added: "… sir."
"Lies and slander!" Ferrick vehemently protested such claims.
"It has your signature," Knowing that it would come to this (again), Wilhelm calmly retrieved a copy of said agreement. Sure enough, it was stamped and signed with Ferrick's messy scrawl of a signature, emblazoned in bright red ink no less.
"Ye gods..." Ferrick whispered in horror, legs weakly giving out underneath him as he sat down. He turned to Wilhelm, his face betraying his fear if it weren't still darkened by his hood. "Willy-"
"-tell me we aren't..." the senior summoner had to swallow hard. "aren't actually paying these people...?"
"A hefty sum, as a matter of fact," Willy procured a notepad from his robe. "According to the contract, not only do the champions receive a generous stipend, but they also get a percentage of the revenue we make off their appearances on pay-per-view, as well as merchandise, advertisements, and sponsors." To prove his point further, he showed the astounding figures that were reaped from their latest marketing campaigns. Teemo plushies were apparently a huge hit everywhere, with even the occasional Noxian reviewer praising the product as "Great target practice! Five stars!"
Ferrick choked on his own spit, sinking further into his chair. (Funny how 'chair' rhymes with 'despair'. It's almost like they're interchangeable.)