As he emerged from the patch of brushes, Garen stood tall and proud.

"Greetings, summoners, Demacian citizens, and everyone else. I am Garen Crownguard, leader of the Dauntless Vanguard. Many of you have seemed to develop an interest into knowing more about myself, and I am happy to entertain your questions and comments."

Garen brushes himself off with his gloved hand, then adjusted his hair to make it part in the middle.

"Come forth! You shall find honor in asking and listening."

((Oh goody, a new Garen!))

((Yay! I'm honored to be a part of this community! ^_^))

((One of the bad things about most of our Garens not sticking around is I am Urgot.

I need someone to hate.

;_; ))

Dear Garen Grownguard,

While I respect your will and dedication to Demacia, Valor and I have a hard time respecting you in particular, you are a strong and capable warrior, but it seems as if you do not think for yourself, you're too by the book, and that is not a good thing, you act as if you are a puppet to be manipulated any way your higher ups want and don't give say into what you truly believe in.

All I'm saying is try making your own decisions every now and then, sometimes going straight by the book isn't the best way to accomplish things

Demacia flies on Valor's wings

- Quinn

((warning - Keep your eye out for stray acid hunter missiles.))

Sona, having nothing much better to do now apparently, decided to visit with a fellow Demacian Garen. It had been a while since she actually had a chance to speak with the vanguard.

Her melodies quickly filled the area and announced her arrival as she approached Garen's room (brush?). Once Garen was within appropriate speaking distance, she smiled, "Hello there Garen. You busy right now?"

((*throws daggers into Garen's chest* DIE!))

A sealed letter would arrive for Garen. The address read it was only form the Institute. The writing would be in red... ink? If was the color of blood.

((I'll do you one better, Kat. He's MINE.))

*On a day he is out and about, alone, an Acid Hunter comes from behind Garen, embedding in the thick shoulder plate of his right arm. A small note is attached to it. The sender is obvious, but nowhere to be found.*

((My, so much attention. ^_^))

Being hit with projectiles and threat messages from the front and back, Garen crumpled the messages, and silently fumed. This Urgot. How did he manage to slip past Demacia's defenses? Unthinkable. A crab-like blob of flesh with mechanical hands is not something you mistake for another Demacian patron. On the other hand, Katarina. She'll be tasting the full weight of his Demacian Justice very, very soon.

"Just you wait. I will deliver swift, righteous vengeance upon you two!"