Quote:
Originally Posted by RiotYmir
A score o' years hence I found meself in a mire of bother, brought about by association with folk whose disrepute was well known. Knaves who knew nothing of good, or even polite, and villains so venomous to voice their name would void an act of charity anywhere on this fine earth.
Mad Harald, Pickle Pete, and Phil Ferretfriend were names spoken in hushed tones, and I hung with 'em all. Causing chaos o' the type that caused the heavens to bar the door and the underworld to put out word they were closed for business.
Now, it was in the realm of King Handsome the Lonely that I got up to some mischief involving half a barrel of honey, a three legged pig, and a monkey named Bill. Into this sticky situation walked the the Palace Guard, and that sent everythin' turvy topsy. Dragged t' the throne room and asked fer my name, my grog addled tongue gave out that I was one Phil Ferretfriend and that were the King open to a test of wills I would wager my Secret Stash of Gold against his Crown instead.
All that were needed was two ferrets an' two pairs of voluminous pantaloons. Unfortunate as it were this king was possessed of rare fortitude, near a match to my own and for that score o' years we have been embroiled in mortal contest by way of that lost English art o' ferret legging.
Recently I heard King Handsome had passed on and been buried with his feisty friend, and passed the task onto his son. Realisin' that I didn't want t' be a king anyway, the whole ferret fiasco had gotten a bit silly, an' my position here at Riot were in peril if I continued to head to work with a wild, and unwashed, animal upon my person I gave the whole thing up.
Some of this tale may be somewhat tall, that I admit, but if you listen real hard on Summoner's Rift ye can hear the squeaking of that forgotten ferret trying t' find his way home...
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Such banditry freely admitted in public forum!? I must proclaim that whilst thou remain a knave, truely thou holdst a charisma most compelling. That wisdom has been reached and poor animal made free gives one hope for the land, even whilst being retracted by knowing rogues such as thee might still make sport of such cruelty. A story of mild temperature, sibling. I wouldst hear it told gladly.
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