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@Riot: Urgent Questions

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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-11-2011

Footsteps echoed down a long stone hallway as Warwick strode purposefully towards the league mess hall. As he walked his claws left little nicks in the floor, his way of warning others that this was his territory as the league discouraged urinating on the walls and no matter how many janitors he mauled, they would continue to undo his work. Warwick grinned. Normally, dwelling on the actions of league servicemen was a one-way ticket to rageville, but today he was in a very good mood. He couldn't be angry today.

It was taco day.

Every day, league chefs would dedicate the lunch menu to cuisine from one of Runeterra's varied countries. Today was Friday, which meant all of their recipes came from south of the Demacian border.

Warwick loved taco day.

He scented the air. There it was! The scent of ground beef! He could give a **** about the lettuce or the cheese. The beef was the only reason to eat them. He enjoyed his tacos with a soft shell and liked to pretend that the tortilla was the soft flesh of a beautiful, unarmed woman as his fangs carved through it to get to the juicy treasure within. Just thinking about it gave him a tingle of sexual excitement. If only tacos could scream and beg for their lives...

He took another sniff of the air. It was stronger now, but... Now there was a new smell. A chemical smell. As an avid chemist before his change, Warwick recognized the scent instantly. But it couldn't be. He sniffed again. It couldn't be, but it was. And it was close. He stopped and tried to find the source. It led him to a pair of doors on the side of the hall. Bathrooms. The male bathroom, specifically. He grunted. There was nothing worse than a men's bathroom. It smelled like competition. He silently pushed the door open and became aware of a voice from within one of the stalls. It was a soft mumble, but Warwick's excellent hearing could pick up a few of the words.
"Yeah... that's it... that's it... god tier..."
Warwick crept forward with all the grace of a giant slobbering ninja and poked his head over the door of the stall, and what he saw he could not believe.

It was Garen. He had his eyes closed, and a syringe in his arm loaded with the very cocktail that Warwick had suspected.

Buffs.

Garen was illegally applying buffs to himself.

The potent sting of the chemical scent had finally irritated Warwick's nose to its threshold. He sneezed.

Garen shot up right, locking his bloodshot eyes on the intruder.
"YOU ****ING DOG!" he howled, "GET THE **** OUT OF HERE!"
Warwick grinned, "Well, this explains those anger issues everyone's talking ab--"
Warwick was interrupted when Garen slammed his boot into the stall door, knocking it off its hinges and sending Warwick into the bathroom's far wall. He slid to the floor in a daze, then shook his head and was in the process of scrambling to his feet when Garen pinned him to the wall.
"You've just earned a trip to the Bandle City Coat Factory you f--"
It was Warwick's turn to interrupt this time, and he did so with a savage, clawed swipe to Garen's face. Garen stumbled backwards, eyes shut, clutching a hand to his wound and groping blindly for Warwick. Warwick found that his back had stopped hurting, and his hunger had been slightly abated. He hoped he'd have enough room for tacos after devouring the Might of Demacia. He lunged, knocking the blinded champion onto his back, grabbed his shoulders, and lurched forward to bite open Garen's throat. Garen responded by grabbing Warwick's jaws in each hand and forcing his mouth open painfully. Warwicked yelped and whimpered, then remembered that he too had hands and brought them up to wrestle with Garen's. Garen threw the heavy wolf creature off him and stood up, then swung hard. His fist connected with the side of Warwick's face, and Warwick staggered backwards, dazed. Garen swung again, and Warwick took it on the shoulder. The two continued to trade blows evenly, but Warwick knew this fight couldn't go on. The buffs in Garen's system were beginning to take effect, and if he didn't end this soon he was going to find himself overpowered. Fortunately for his pride, he wouldn't have to run, as Garen seemed to be pulling away. As Garen scrambled for the door, Warwick gave a halfhearted chase. He pulled the door open and swung it closed behind him to stymie Warwick's pursuit, and Warwick tugged it open just in time to watch Garen sprint down the hallway at an incredible speed. Warwick could smell his blood, and managed to suppress a reflexive howl. He could tell Garen was headed for the door to the outside world. That was fine.
"You're lucky it's taco day!" he called after the Demacian. There was no response.

Warwick rubbed an aching arm as he slowly shoved open the door to the mess hall. It was crowded, now. He was usually early for taco day, but that interruption had cost him a lot of time since he decided to visit Garen's chambers and piss on his bed. Nobody punches Warwick. As he entered, several heads turned to watch him. He certainly looked worse for wear, and didn't realize how hard Garen had been swinging until the bruises had a chance to settle in. As he passed one of the tables, he heard Miss Fortune cackle and mimic his trademarked howl with a mouthful of taco. The champions seated next to her laughed. He silenced them with a glower and went to find a tray.

"Worth the wait," Warwick mumbled into a tortilla full of beef. He was halfway through his delicious taco feast when he felt a presence take a seat next to him. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. He knew that perfume, how it mingled with the scent of gunpowder that always surrounded her.
"Go away." he growled.
"Warwick, dear," said Caitlyn, "Are you alright?"
"What do you want?" he said, lapping up the last traces of juice on the tortilla.
"I heard you had a run-in with Garen."
Warwick snorted, "Who told you that?"
"I don't reveal my sources," she said, smiling.
Warwick lifted his head from the empty tortilla and sniffed. There was the perfume, the gunpowder, the smell of her hair and her clothing, her sweat... Of paper and ink... But wait, there was the alien smell he was looking for. The smell of fur and walnuts, the unmistakable tinge of junta poison.
"Teemo." he grunted. He'd picked up that scent outside of the bathrooms but thought he was imagining it. The little ****er must have been standing there the whole time.
If Caitlyn was surprised by Warwick's olfactory detective skills, it didn't show. "I need to know where Garen went."
"I haven't seen him." Warwick replied, shoving another taco into his ever-hungry maw.
"I know that's not true, Warwick."
Warwick ignored Caitlyn and began eating the rest of his food. She didn't budge. Warwick found her patience maddening. When he was finally finished eating, he felt her lean onto his shoulder. He growled a warning, his hackles beginning to rise.
"Tell me," she said, "Where Garen went. Do this for me, and there might be something in it for you..."
Warwick quieted, thought for a moment, and finally agreed. "Bring me another taco and I'll tell you what I saw."


Warwick couldn't believe that had worked. The old "request-a-taco-and-then-ditch-while-the-moron's-away" trick. He grinned to himself as he walked down the hallway leading from the mess hall. How stupid could she be? Sure he was missing out of a free taco, but...
He stopped. A new scent had caught his nose, and he looked down. Lying on the floor off to one side was a single white cupcake with a bright red cherry nestled on top of the icing. Warwick scoffed. Really, *****? The cupcake trick? Warwick felt almost insulted by the simplicity of Caitlyn's traps. He continued down the hall, giving the obvious trap a wide berth when he felt two pieces of cold steel snap closed around his leg. He barely had time to yelp when a figure leapt from the shadows onto his back and covered his mouth and nose with a cloth. At once Warwick smelled an overpoweringly familiar substance on the cloth, but he couldn't recall the scent.
Oh come on, he thought. You were a master chemist before this wolf business.
Indeed, this was a chemical he'd incorporated hundreds of times into his own concoctions. Now what was it called...? Oh! Chloroform! Of cour


Warwick awoke in a daze, in unfamiliar territory. He shook his head, and soon realized that he was lying spread-eagle on a flat surface raised off the floor. He turned his head. Wood. It was a table. He made a motion to rise but found his arms bound tightly to the corners. He gave his legs a tug and discovered they were in a similar state. He growled. When he got out of here, he was going to wrap that sniper ***** in ham and eat her alive. He heard footsteps approaching the head of the table from out of sight, and once again Caitlyn's gunpowdery perfume scent met his nose.
He snarled, "This is going to be the worst mistake of your life, *****."
Caitlyn sighed, "I gave you the chance to help me. Now we have to do things the hard way."
"Do your worst," he said, grinning, "I'm going to remember every single thing you do here."
"My worst?" she said, sounding intrigued, "I don't need my worst to break you."
Warwick felt her place her hands behind his ears... And she began scratching. He thrashed wildly about on the table, snarling. The sensation, Warwick found, was... so good. He continued to struggle, pretending he wasn't enjoying her attention. After a solid minute, she stopped. Warwick ceased his thrashing and layed limp on the table.
"Now," she began, leaning in so that her lips were an inch from Warwick's ear and bringing her voice down to just over a whisper, "Tell me what I want to know..."
Not a chance, Warwick thought, anticipating another session.
"...Or I'm not going to do that again."
His eyes widened slightly.
"I know you enjoyed that, Warwick. It's nothing to be ashamed about." She slid one fingernail along the base of his ear. Warwick leaned his head into he sensation.
"**** you." he said, quickly regretting it. What if she stopped?
"Sweeten the deal?" She asked, "Alright. Tell me what Garen was doing and I'll scratch your belly."

Warwick sat at the foot of a tall oak tree outside the massive league hall, feeling slightly humiliated, partially aroused, and completely satisfied. He'd told her everything, and as her nails graced his tender, fuzzy stomach he only wished he had more to give. That woman knew how to treat a dog. He was still going to kill Garen when he was him next, but he'd try to make it as painless as possible. He was in a very good mood.


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Schittybeef

Junior Member

02-11-2011

Why does Udyr go Super Saiyan 3 every game?


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-11-2011

Goku Stance


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MatZilla

Senior Member

02-12-2011

good fiction is good, more pls renekton bot


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-12-2011

Awh, you're nice <3

I can't help but feel I'm being a little light on the hardcore eroticism though.


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-14-2011

Morning came, as it often did. The sun had barely crested the horizon when Xin Zhao awoke to begin his morning exercise regiment. It wasn't easy to swing a spear with enough force to knock a grown man twenty feet into the air, so every bit of muscle helped.

When Xin was finished, the sun was well into the sky. He caught a quick shower, and suited up for the day. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach told him it was time for breakfast. He stepped to his door, undid the lock, and gave it a hearty push.

It didn't move.

He pushed again, harder. The wooden door seemed oddly inflexible today. Xin took a few steps back, leaned forward, then sprinted into the door and shoulder-checked it with all the force he could muster. The door flew open with a thunderous crack, and Xin was hit by a sensation of bitter cold as shards of ice rained down upon him. The amount of force he had put into the impact was enough to carry him well into the hallway outside, and he turned to find that someone had sealed his doorway closed with a gigantic chunk of ice, shaped expertly into a heart.
He smiled faintly, knowing full well this was his reward for his "Articuno" comment. The heart shape was a nice touch.
A spot of red caught his eye. Next to his doorway was a moderate pile of red paper bags. He picked one up and removed a handful of pink and white tissue paper from within, revealing a small box of candy. A perfumed note was left inside which said simply, "Happy Valentine's Day." It was signed by Evelynn, who added in a post-script, "I've got the touch "
His smile widened. It was Valentine's Day, wasn't it?
He stuffed the tissue paper back in the bag, placed it in his room, then tugged a card from another bag. The card read, "True love cannot be defeated" and was credited to Irelia. He replaced the card and looked down at the other bags. One would be from Akali, one from Miss Fortune, another from Caitlyn. Two would be from Morgana, who spent every Valentine's making chocolates to give to people, and one would be from Kayle simply to spite her sister. The last was probably from Mundo again.
Xin wasn't entirely sure why Mundo sent him a valentine's basket every year, but Mundo isn't the sort of person you refuse gifts from. Mundo gifts who he pleases.

Xin carefully slid the piles of chocolates into his room with one foot, and closed the door securely. There was no time for chocolates, breakfast calls.
"To the cafeteria!" Xin said to himself as he started down the hallway.

The cafeteria was bustling that morning, and for one good reason: Morgana was cooking, and Morgana was a god-tier chef. The line to the serving area was enormous, and as Xin entered he could already hear the roar of the oven, the hiss of what had to be pancake batter hitting a hot stove, and the clatter of plates.
"Do not dally!" Morgana called over the din of the diners, addressing the serving line. Xin joined the line, and after far too long a wait, he made it to the front. Morgana was hard at work loading a fresh-batch of heart-shaped pancakes from the stove. She had on her "Sinful Succulence" outfit, the one she wore any time there was food to be made. She lit up when she saw Xin.
"Xin! Baby! So glad you could make it. Did you get my present?" She asked.
"Yeah, I--"
"Ooh! Did you like them?"
"I didn't have a chance to try--"
"GOOD!" She shouted, "You need to save room for breakfast!"
"Right, that's--"
Morgana thrust a plate piled high with pancakes at Xin's face. They smelled incredible. He began to thank her when she cried, "NEXT!" and Xin hastily complied, re-entering the dining area and finding his customary table. He took a seat next to Master Yi.
"Xin." said Yi in greeting.
"Yi." replied Xin.
"The pancakes." he said, noting Xin's plate. "A wise decision." Yi had a plate of eggs, bacon and sausage, arranged in such a way that it resembled a face screaming in agony.
"She didn't leave me a lot of choice. You know Morgana."
Yi nodded slowly, biting off the end of a strip of bacon.
Xin went to begin on his pancakes, but realized he'd forgotten silverware. He was about to rise and return to the kitchen when Yi hovered a fork in front of his face.
"Thanks." said Xin.
Yi nodded again, "My fork is yours."
They ate in relative silence. Yi wasn't one to make conversation. He was more the type to talk at someone, rather than with someone. A preacher. Xin supposed to came with the wise samurai thing. As they ate, he noticed that Yi would take two bites every seventh time he brought his fork to his mouth. Xin couldn't tell is this was amusing to unnerving. He looked around the room and thought about how funny it was that the champions assembled here could be so cordial when they weren't fighting to the death.
Yi rose suddenly, "Prepare yourself." he said.
Xin looked at him, "What?"
"You will counsel a troubled soul on this day of intimacy. Two hearts once intertwined, now severed by a chemical blade. One half approaches."
Yi nodded as though anything he just said made sense, turned, and left. Xin had only a moment to reflect on the cryptic advice before he heard the rattling of metal armor approaching his table. A massive presence settled itself next to Xin.
"Hey Morde."
"Hey." replied Mordekaiser. His voice sounded distant.
"...Everything alright?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"N-no." he said, and barely held back a sob, "Xin, have you seen Garen? I haven't seen him since that match, and he hasn't been in his room, and I was hoping he would apologize for yelling at me, but now I don't care, I just want to see him! You're his best friend, you have to know where he's been! Is he cheating on me? Please, tell me if he is!"
Xin had put up a hand to quiet Mordekaiser roughly midway through his panicked rant, and when he saw it wasn't working, he spoke up.
"Morde, slow down. I actually haven't seen him since the match, either."
Mordekaiser made a sound that resembled stone cracking, and Xin guessed he was about to cry. The big sort of crying that silenced entire cafeterias and made all heads turn towards the source, which would probably be clinging tightly to Xin as it bawled for several minutes. Xin did not need that image attached to him forever. He reached up to put a hand on Mordekaiser's shoulder.
"Morde, hold on. I'll ask around and find out where he went, alright? It's not like he left the league or anything, he's probably just been having a bad day. ...Two bad days. Just take it easy for a bit. Look, how about I give him a good ass-kicking for running off on you?"
Mordekaiser sniffled and shook his head, "No, I'm the one who needs their ass kicked. This is my fault."
Xin rolled his eyes. "No it isn't, Morde. You had nothing to do with this."
"How could he do this to me on Valentine's day?"
"It's just a case of bad timing. He still loves you, alright? He told me so himself after the match." That last part was a lie. A lie, but it worked.
"Really?" said Morde, sounding cautiously hopeful.
"Yeah, in fact, I'd wager the reason you haven't seen him today is because he's getting you a great big present."
Morde sniffled again, "Maybe you're right. Thank you, Xin..." He gave Xin a hug, a bonecrushing hug that took the wind out of him and brought pancake up to the back of his throat. With that, he rose and left, his steps a little less shuffling. Xin felt happy that he could brighten up the big guy's day.

Xin finished the rest of his breakfast without interruption. He had just left the cafeteria when he heard a voice behind him.
"Xin."
He turned. Caitlyn was leaning against the wall next to the doorway.
"Hey girl, how's life?" he asked, reflexively turning on the suave.
"Busy." she replied. "Have you seen Garen?"
"What, you're looking for him, too?"
Caitlyn pushed herself off the wall and walked towards Xin. "Yes. We need to have a little talk."
"Well, get in line."
Caitlyn eyed Xin for a moment. "Look, you're his friend, so I feel like I should give you fair warning. It is my intention to bring him to justice. Don't get in my way."
Xin's eyebrows raised, "Woah, what? Justice? For what, making Mordekaiser sad?"
"As this is an ongoing case, I'm unable to relinquish the details pertaining to Garen's impending arrest. I'm simply asking that you refrain from aiding or abetting him in any way until after the investigation is closed."
Xin balled his fists. He wasn't sure if he should be more upset that Caitlyn was accusing Garen of going against his code, which he ****ing would not thank you very much, *****, or that she believed that Xin himself would violate the code that strictly forbids Demacians from harboring criminals. Which Garen wasn't.
"If you learn anything else that might help me track Garen down, I ask that you bring it to my attention. Thank you for your time." With that, Caitlyn turned and left, leaving Xin standing in the hall, fists balled, half-confused, half-shocked, and completely pissed. Xin knew Garen. He knew Garen would never take buffs, not even if he were drowning in an ocean of buffs with a number of open wounds, and the only life raft close by was made of syringes full of buffs, and also the air was buffs too. That's why he was going to find Garen, joke about how ridiculous the accusations were, and then the two of them were going to gank the **** out of Caitlyn for being a lying ****.

Xin set off towards Garen's chambers with new purpose.


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-16-2011

486) If Maokai get ganked in a solo lane, would you call it a "tree-way?"


DOHOHOHOHOHO

















I'M RUNNING OUT OF QUESTIONS OKAY


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-16-2011

(That's why there's so much fanfiction)


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-17-2011

Warwick was feeling pretty good today.

He'd struck a deal after his last encounter with Caitlyn. He would play bloodhound for the detective, and she would reward him accordingly. She also promised not to tell anyone that he enjoyed wearing a leash. Normally, anyone who learned that would also learn what it's like to be disemboweled, but Warwick learned long ago not to bite the hand that scratched him. Especially not with nails like hers. Recalling the feel of her well-manicured fingernails in his fur made him shiver with a secret delight, and then check his surroundings to make sure it stayed secret. He recalled another caveat of their agreement, too. He was not to tell anyone what was going on, and if they found out somehow, to feign ignorance. Failure to do so would mean Warwick might never see another belly rub. The very thought of it filled him with a sense of terrible dread, as though he had just learned that all the women and children in the world had been suddenly stricken mute, lost the ability to cry, and were made of tofu.

As Warwick's thoughts drifted from his perverse pleasures to wanton slaughter, he became aware of a gentle rumbling in his gut. Meal time. Today might not be taco day, he thought, but as long as I can pretend it's alive I'll be alright. He licked his chops in anticipation and set off towards the cafeteria. As he walked, he became so caught up in a daydream involving a nude Caitlyn, a flea comb, and a platter of wailing infants that he did not notice the strange scent on the air, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps from behind him, or the heavy blackjack that collided with the back of his head and sent his world into darkness.

When he awoke, he felt a familiar sensation. Bands of soft fabric held his arms and legs fast again a cold stone wall. He glanced around and realized he was in some sort of dungeon. The floor, walls and ceiling were made entirely of cobblestone, and the room was lined with all manner of iron shackles and cages. He looked down at his arm. His shackles were apparently made of leather and silk. Sexy. Warwick sighed, imagined Caitlyn had a new contract to negotiate, and wondered why she couldn't just ask instead of applying this weird knock-out bondage thing she seemed to have going. He sniffed the air, but noticed her scent was absent. There was a different scent now, a less feminine scent coupled with a much more pungent gunpowder. He was beginning to understand his situation when he heard footsteps approach behind a heavy wooden door. The door creaked open slowly, and in stepped Miss Fortune, stupid hat and all. Warwick prepared to growl a threat when he noticed that his muzzle had been tied closed with a pink silk ribbon. She grinned at him as she shut the door.
"Hello, puppy."
Warwick offered a muffled response which was probably unflattering.
Miss Fortune clicked her tongue and mock-pouted as she walked towards him.
"What's the matter, little guy? All tied up?"
Warwick squirmed.
"I bet you're wondering what's going on. Well let me fill you in..."
I'd like to fill you in, Warwick thought, scowling.
"I've noticed lately that my good friend Caitlyn has that glint in her eye again. You know the one, right? The one she gets when she's on someone's trail? Of course you do. Anyway, I was curious about this, since, after all, I'm the league's resident bounty hunter, am I not? A bounty hunter who really does not like it when some wannabe upstart busts into her tournament and starts chasing after HER perps." She jabbed Warwick's chest with her finger. He growled.
"Right, that's what I said. So later I'm off doing something TOTALLY unrelated near her quarters when who should come knocking on her door but you?" Miss Fortune snaked an arm behind Warwick's neck and leaned on him, bringing her free hand forward to pat his stomach. He growled more loudly. "So I thought, 'how strange, I wonder what that's all about?' and that's how you ended up here. Now..." Miss Fortune detached herself from her wolfy prisoner and took hold of one end of the ribbon on Warwick's muzzle.
"I'm gonna take this ribbon off, and you're gonna tell me what I want to know. Deal?"
Warwick gave no response.
"Great!" she said, excited. She tugged on the ribbon and it fell away, drifting slowly towards the ground.
"**** you." grunted Warwick.
"Now is that any way to treat your gracious host?"
"I'm not telling you a god**** thing."
"Oh, I get it. She has you under some kind of non-disclosure agreement, right?" Miss Fortune clicked her tongue again, "Guess I'm gonna have to get tough with you, then." At that she turned around and left the chamber, leaving Warwick to wonder what was in store for him. After a short while, Miss Fortune returned carrying a large, bloodstained wooden crate. She set it on the floor before him, allowing him a few moments to imagine the gruesome torture tools that were inside before grinning wildly and pulling off the lid, lifting a silver object from inside. It appeared to be a flat metal plate covered by a metal dome, and Warwick thought it resembled a dinner platter. He breathed in slowly to try and discover the contents, and he caught whiff of something.
Oh no, he thought, starting to panic, Oh please, please no. Anything but that!
Warwick squirmed in his bonds, and Miss Fortune's grin became one of wicked glee. She tugged the metal lid off the platter.
Bacon. It was bacon.
The ***** was going to use bacon.
Warwick held his breath. One good sniff of that and it would be all over. Miss Fortune knew. Already, rivulets of saliva began to pour down from the corners of his mouth. Miss Fortune walked over to Warwick, holding the platter tantalizingly close to his face. He turned his head away and tried to breathe through his mouth,
"Do you like bacon, puppy?" she teased, sliding a piece of it just below his nose. Gods above, the texture! It was so crispy! "It's one of my favorites, and I'm very good at making it. This batch here has a honey glaze, isn't that interesting?"
Warwick was almost ready to cry. Yes it was interesting, you stupid ****! That was the most interesting thing you could do to straight bacon! **** you! **** you to hell for doing this to me!
Warwick took a great gulp of air, and Miss Fortune seized the opportunity to slide the strip of bacon along his tongue.
NO! Warwick screamed in his mind. But it was too late, the juice, the ****ing juice was there, it was there on his tongue and he couldn't get it off, he couldn't get it off and sooner or later he was going to swallow and he was going to taste it and...
Miss Fortune reached up her hand to gently stroke Warwick's furry neck.
"Swallow it..." she said softly. "Swallow it, puppy..."
Warwick couldn't help himself. He swallowed. He tasted it. It was so good he almost screamed. As the flavor reached his brain it caused him to lose control of his inhibitions. He devoured the strip of bacon near him mouth with such ferocity that Miss Fortune had to snap her hand back to keep her fingers. She lifted another piece to his mouth, and another, and another. Warwick was hers, now, and in seconds the platter was bare and he swore on his life to tell her everything, everything if she just gets him another serving of that bacon, that sweetest ambrosia. When Miss Fortune returned after what seemed like forever, carrying what must have been an entire pig's worth of the sacred treat, he told her. He told her everything between generously-proportioned servings, about Garen, about the buffs, about Caitlyn, about the leash thing, about the fact that he suspected Vladimir to actually be a woman, about his dream involving *** with the dragon on Summoner's Rift, about how he sometimes like to strip naked and run through forests while barking heavy metal songs, about how all this bacon was making him unusually sleepy, about how everything had started to fade...


Hours later, Warwick awoke in the middle of a hallway in a panic. Did that just happen? Was it all a dream? He licked his lips, and the delicious bacon residue told him that it did happen, he was just interrogated by bacon, and Caitlyn was going to be pissed, and she was never going to scratch his ears the way only she could ever again, but the bacon, the bacon had been worth it, so worth it, and if Miss Fortune tried to tell Caitlyn that Warwick sold her out, then he was going to lie and say he didn't, because who was she going to believe, honorable Warwick, or that ***** she hated so much?

Warwick hoped, anyway.


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Renekton Bot

Senior Member

02-17-2011

FUN FACTS REGARDING THIS CHAPTER!

I was eating a hot pocket when I started writing this, and some of the cheese landed on my chin and it was really hot and hurt kinda bad.

I've only had two hours of sleep

Writing this chapter was the most aroused I've ever been while writing about a wolfman being tortured by bacon.

Maokai is overpowered

I had a root canal earlier today

Having a root canal is kind of like laning mid against Sivir

Warwick enjoys classical music

Yes Miss Fortune's chambers include a dungeon

Miss Fortune has a small stash of Legos in her bedroom that she plays with sometimes, and she made Lego versions of all the other champions and likes to act out little scenes in Lego with them, and sometimes she likes to pretend she's on a Lego pirate ship while Lego Gangplank saves her from scary Lego natives, and all the natives look like Teemo and every time she does this the Lego Teemo tribe is either wiped out or used by the crew as rations on their voyage home