{{ Hi. I'm the one who posted on the previous Poppy's thread asking if I could acquire this Champion. After receiving the go, this is here we are. Expect very little OOC from me on these forums, but don't hesitate to let me know if there's something about my Poppy that seems... off. I'm civil as long as everyone else is. }}

Demacia:

In a southeastern district, signs leading travelers to the "Bandle City Embassy of Demacia" marked the path to a two-story quartzite building, its architecture more standard to that of Bandle City than the nation it lies within. The general area also bears a somewhat thicker yordle population than the rest of Demacia, but such a detail matters little.

Some time ago, the Institute of War came to Poppy with a certain request. And to all the people of Valoran, the Iron Ambassador gave her answer to this request:

"Greetings, people of Valoran," she wrote. These words were spread through the Blitzernet as well as journals in all nations across Valoran... publicized mostly the same as any other champion of the League. "As you know, since the closure of the Journal of Justice, my fellow champions have begun to open 'Ask' columns. I have been... convinced to do the same. If there is any question that you wish for me to answer, please do not hesitate to submit it through mail or Blitznet. If you would like to speak with me in person, be sure to make an appointment first. I don't have the free time to answer questions on a walk-in basis at the Embassy itself, nor does anyone there have the time to entertain such requests... I'm sure you understand."

{{ When I typed "journals," I'm not referring to the JoJ. }}

The overly manly hunk of meat known as the manlegendary GRAGAS appears out of nowhere like a super magic ninja of magicness and asks Poopy this one... single... determinant... serious... diplomat of a question...

Poopy? 'ey, POOPEH!

What's...

Yer...

Breakfast

High-pitched, nut-thrustin', man-'owlin'O'

CHAMPIOOOOooooWwwOoooooooOoOOOOOOOWWWNS?!

The world shakes and distorts in the manliness that came from the booze god's voice, with the BASS BOOSTED and the manliness shaking by manverload. He glares at the ****ing midget in manticipation...

In spite of the most mantacular entrance that would instantly make most women grow a full beard to rival Zilean's, Poppy's only physical response was to turn slowly in the "large" man's direction. She was used to stranger things than a two-meter tall, morbidly manly man asking what she ate for breakfast as if he were declaring the start of an underground wrestling match.

The Iron Ambassador rubs her aching ears as she answers the ultimate question. "In the morning, I'd enjoy mashed potatoes, sausage, a pint of water, and whatever else it is my body feels it needs. Nothing spectacular. But outside of just breakfast...."

...Poppy simply points behind her. Considerably distanced from the stack of papers, a pack of beef jerky rests at the edge of her desk. "....I like jerky."

((Ahh, I see the old Poppy have parted ways with this forum... Shame, just when I decide to visit. In anycase
WELCOME!!!!!))

A yordle completely cloaked walked into the Embassy's name, looking around casually. A blue glowing dot floated around him, jumping around at quite a quick pace. He turned to look at Poppy, narrowing his eyes, before speaking.

Poppy, been a while... How has it been? The yordle strolled over to the middle of the room and sat down abruptly, obviously lacking the manners to ask if he could even come in. The blue dot next to him is actually a pixie, looking around the room trying to take in all the things her eyes is feasting on.

So then Gragas manrealises that Poopy is not Poopy; he is Moopy, the Manly Manron Manbassador, disguised as Poopy, the Ambassador of Belleh Food Citteh. With that sh*t going down, the overly manly hunk of meat known as the god of booze, bacon, and thunder, aka Gragas, reads the thoughts of a fellow MAN. So he eats bacon, eh? **** what the fourth wall thinks, read them minds of fellow MEN. Jerky? The manly hunk of meat asks, pressing his manface and mannose on Moopy, and tilting it as in to challenge him to an underground wrestling match. That's right, Under. ****ing. Ground. Wresting. Match. "Jerky?" He manpeats. "Mild or spicy?" He MANasks in a tough, badass manner, still using the manvoking attitude, "HMM?"

Then forty busty ass women, OVERLY BUSTY, FAT, WOMEN, SUITABLE FOR MANLY MAN MEN, appear magically, all wearing sexy-ass Mantoberfest blouses. Yeah, fat as **** women wearing those busty ass clothes, carry jerky. Half carrying spicy jerky, and the other, who are scared of the spicy bearing ho's, carry mild, wimpy-ass jerkies. Because they're pussies.

"So..." Mangragas glares harder at Moopy, with the coldest, manliest glare he can muster, which makes the busty ass women grow full Saruman beards. Ohnononononononono, more like... FULL GANDAL-- Wait, not manly red enough... FULL GIMLI beards. Yeah, that's ****ing right, women with GIMLI beards that reach down their toes, because that guy is the manliest man in the other universe that made Runeterra after the epic Brofist with Mangragas, and then the Big Bang happened, and now this ****, a stand-off between the two manliest creatures in Runeterra, because Brolaf is just a manly man, not a super manly creature like the newly-found Moopy. "Whas'sit gonna be? Then lightning strikes, and now Moopy has only two windows in the Manbassy, aka her office, and she can see behind them. A jalapeno appears on one, printed on the sky in pure shining bacon juice, and a wimpy little male kid in a ballerina dance on the other, made of shining tears of orphans and kids. "Mild..." The wimpy little kid avatar QQ's hardcore. "Or..." The tears of orphans surround the jalapeno, making drawings of orphans, praising the godly spiciness. "...Spicy? Now the skies are dark, and in that last manly word, the biggest lightning erupts hardcore from the skies, and Moopy's ceiling was made of glass the whole time, and it's raining like ****.

All of this **** happening just over one question. Imagine the overly manly hunk of meat getting mad and yelling at his overly sexy, busty and hot-ass fat obese blanky doodle shire thingy wife, Lady Gragas. Can you imagine the chaos? ****, man. So now it comes down to Moopy's choice: Mild or Spicy? Her title depends on it. Is he Moopy? Or is she FemPoopy?

A cyan letter arrives at the Ambassador's office. It is sealed with a wax image of a Brackern proudly displaying his pincers over the phrase, 'Knowledge with power'. It reads as follows.

{{ If Former Poppy - and Former Poppy only - doesn't like me that much and makes that statement, or otherwise wants the champion back, then I will step down without any kind of complaint. Former Poppy's vigilant eyes are upon me, so I must not disappoint too much. With that said... thanks for the welcome! }}

The Iron Ambassador wasn't particularly pleased to see a fellow yordle barge into an Embassy, especially one in Demacia, as if he were visiting a friend's house to play games. Her usual deadpan expression molded itself into an irritated scowl, giving the yordle the legendary "look." Poppy's gaze foretold a rather painful future if the heavily cloaked yordle did not leave her office and try again, this time minding basic manners. She then looks back down at the stack of papers on her desk and continues signing, stamping, and stacking them to the side, or otherwise throwing them into the dustbin with a "Who on Valoran could think that this was acceptable?" or similar remark.

{{ This event is absolutely not happening at the same time or dimension as anything else. Only the manliest of men are permitted to interfere. }}

Well, that certainly answered Poppy's -- or rather, Moopy's -- question. For the many special effects that were going on within the Embassy, Gragas probably hired a summoner, or at least a damn skilled illusionist, in order to slip into the Embassy just for a question like that - however, that would mean that the Mageguards on-site weren't as good at their jobs as he thought. Either that, or Gragas's testosterone granted him with reality-warping powers. Poppy's logic led her to the former conclusion, but his inner Moopy somehow knew better than that.

After Gragas poses The Ultimate Question #2, Moopy raised his shield to cover his unarmored head, wondering how a stone building suddenly has a glass ceiling. This was not out of any instinct to protect his head, but rather because broken glass can be difficult to remove when wearing heavy plated armor with chain.

"Gragas. Don't ask such a misleading question."

Moopy turned his head sideways as a Gangplank-esque beard began to grow on him at least one-hundred times faster than a Chia pet. The Iron Manbassador clearly did not believe that Gragas thought there was a choice between mild, lame-ass "jerky" and spicy, manlicious jerky. He answers:

"You're asking me to choose between two types of jerky, but..."

Moopy points toward the spicy jerky. "... this is the only jerky I see."

Just what did this manly hunk of man-meat have to say to that?

Poppy, at this time, was finished with her work in the Embassy for the day when she noticed a peculiar letter arrive later than it was meant to. Somewhat interested in the seal - for it was interesting that one "of the Brackern" should wish to speak with a yordle ambassador - she reads the letter over before penning her response:

She sends the letter out and waits for this "Geokhan of the Brackern." As she was meeting an unknown person alone, it was fairly obvious that the League champion would be fully armed and armored... but that's nothing new. She was wearing her armor at (almost) every waking minute anyway due to how suddenly she could be summoned to the Fields of Justice.

{{ Made a handful of grammar corrections. }}

((Heh... you got nothing to worry really. I'll be watching and giving tips if I see something that... seems wrong to me (I might be wrong just as easily about those things though), but I will not try and force anyone to step down, the role is yours until you decide to step down on your own. :P I... might make my lil' OC appear around here at some point... something I could never do before. ))

On the following evening, a purple robed summoner wearing gloves and using his hood to block his facial features approached the Embassy. He also worn an amulet around his neck, like summoner's are often to do, but his was a amulet of aquamarine that was cyan in color. He was visibly armed with an odd longsword on his hip with a crystalline hilt and handguard that resembled a shield. If he wasn't stopped, he would go to the lobby and ask to be shown to 2F-H1 saying he had an appointment.

{{ Thank you for your words, Tji. }}

Armed visitors that weren't Demacian champions would generally find themselves noticed by security. The two guards posted at the entrance to the Embassy had nothing to say until the summoner neared the door, at which point they both blocked his path. They were human males wearing chain armor and wielding flamberges. One of them, who also had a matchlock pistol at his belt, spoke.

"If you're going in, we'll need to confiscate your blade until you leave. Standard procedure not to allow weaponry within the Embassy."

The guards did not make any attempt at seizing his weapon, instead waiting for the summoner to either relinquish the unusual sword or leave.